


Dearly Departed

by kingburu



Series: Who Do You Love [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Romance, godswap!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 214,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingburu/pseuds/kingburu
Summary: “No—” There’s a way that Jason’s hard eyes soften that makes him look a little sadder. His eyebrows knit together delicately, and he’s got the same nostalgic look on his face that Thalia had earlier in the praetor’s office. Except it’s directed at Nico. “I knew your sister. Bianca."Nico’s heart clenches in his chest. Percy’s usual mischievous smirk and lackadaisical eyes sober, and Thalia’s smile fades.“We fought together in the war,” Jason says softly. “I’m so sorry, Nico—she died.”It takes a moment for Nico to process the words. He looks at those rich, oily eyes that are suddenly sweet and tender. They stare back at him like they’ve known him for years. Thalia and Percy are both leaning in, evidently trying to gauge his reaction—but honestly, Nico’s just confused.“Yeah,” Nico says slowly. “And?”--A godswap!au, where Son of Jupiter Nico di Angelo doesnotwant to be praetor and could not carelessabout what Ambassador Grace has to say about his late sister. No matter what that Son of Hades thinks.
Relationships: Implied Other Couples, Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano
Series: Who Do You Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161155
Comments: 283
Kudos: 506





	1. son of jupiter

The announcement at the Senate meeting is twofold: Reyna has gone missing, and they’ve received a new camper.

Nico yawns at his place next to Percy, having just woken up from his nap at the top of the Jupiter Maximus. Thalia is looking at them from her podium, the purple regalia against her pale skin like an ethereal being. Her lips are stretched in a firm line, eyebrows knitted together in worry. And—in all honesty, she looks like she’s trying her best not to be devasted that Reyna is gone.

He is, too. Nico’s heart clenches, but he doesn’t know where to start.

Frank Zhang—this Chinese-Canadian, chubby teenager steps onto the stage, fear evident in his eyes as Thalia introduces him. He looks like he’s trying his best to look as small as a mouse, but the baby fat in his cheeks makes him look more like a bear.

Thalia asks if anyone wants him. The centurions from the First through Fourth Cohort remain silent.

Percy jabs Nico in the rib so hard that Nico yelps, then scowls at the Son of Neptune.

Disgruntled, Nico raises his hand.

“The Fifth Cohort will take him,” he says. “I’ll be his sponsor.”

Frank looks ready to cry tears of joy right there and then. Or maybe tears of fear, from the way Nico looks at him. Frank mouths an over-grateful _thank you_ in their direction, and Percy nods and smiles and offers a thumbs-up. Nico only rolls his eyes.

Then like every Senate meeting, Octavian feels the need to open his mouth. “If Reyna is missing, the camp is in imbalance. We should find a suitable replacement while she’s gone.”

If _death glares_ were an actual thing, he’d be on the ground, lifeless. Thalia rests her cheek in the palm of her hand and crosses her legs. Her dark eyes flicker, trying to figure out if she wants to humor this thought. “Alright, augur, what do the care bears say today?”

Octavian looks stupidly triumphant. He presents a cream-colored stuffed bunny and drags a knife across its torso. Stuffing explodes from the seams.

“The gods think that a new leader will emerge soon,” Octavian says smugly. “I bet he— _or she_ —is among us.”

Frank Zhang looks like he wants to faint right there and then. He looks back at Percy and Nico, like he’s saying— _if you do this to stuffed animals, what do you do to **demigods**_?

Percy shakes his head with dismay and Nico rolls his eyes.

“Among us, huh?” Thalia echoes, her voice teeming with wryness. She gestures to the glyph on her forearm for a moment, expression contemplative. “Well, Reyna already had someone in mind for when I step down in a couple of months.”

All eyes suddenly fall to Nico, and he swears under his breath.

“What do you say?” Thalia asks halfheartedly, though her eyes show she already knows the answer. “Son of Jupiter?”

Nico wrinkles his nose. He avoids their gaze, hair falling into his face, and scratches his arm instead, where the four-going-on-five tickmarks are dark against his skin under the eagle tattoo and the SPQR emblem.

“Pass,” he says.

And like every year, the eyes fly away from him, not even fazed.

Octavian puffs his chest out, looking positively pleased. “Then we will hold an election!”

*

After the pomp and circumstance of indoctrinating Frank into the Twelfth Legion and the Fifth Cohort via searing hot tattoo and the _probatio_ tablet, Thalia gives him a sympathetic pat on the back and ushers him over to Percy and Nico.

Frank, in a daze, mumbles an umpteenth thank you while Percy and Nico wave their praetor goodbye. Thalia looks positively _disgusted_ to take on the unsurmountable towers of paperwork back at the praetor’s office.

“If you think that hurt,” Percy says as he offers Frank a tissue, “just wait until we initiate you.”

“Don’t scare him too early,” Nico chides lightly. “I need someone for elephant duty since you scared Hannibal the last time you gave him a bath.”

“If he squirts me with water, then I should be able to do the same,” Percy protests.

“There are elephants here?” Frank’s eyebrows furrow together. He’s tall at 6 _’_ 3”, so the idea that he’s terrified by _anything_ is almost funny to Nico.

“The elephants are nice. Just don’t feed them _peanuts._ ” Nico shoots another glance over at Percy, irritated just by his own words. But per usual, Percy shrugs, the amusement visible on the Son of Neptune’s face without much thought. Nico sighs when he notices Frank backtracking.

This experience is already overwhelming enough.

“You’ll like it here,” Nico offers gently. “New Rome is used to halfbloods coming in from the outside world—no matter the circumstances.” Well—most circumstances, Nico’s excluded. “The Fifth Cohort is open to newcomers. We can show you the Forum once you get settled in the barracks and you can try out the new food in town.”

“And we’re good at offering grief counselling,” Percy offers. He leans onto Nico’s shoulder idly, a smile on his face. “It’s been popular these days.”

“Grief counselling,” Frank repeats, as though testing the words on his mouth. Nico isn’t quite sure what demons Frank Zhang faced while in Canada, but it’s clear from his demeanor that he’s fond of the thought.

They keep walking while Percy explains all the benefits of New Rome like a tour guide: an elite education that caters to dyslexia, a university for higher level learning, skilled sword training classes, magical food (Percy emphasizes that he can have _blue_ food and asks Frank what color food their new legionnaire wants. Frank is confused.)

They make it to the barracks, and Frank settles for a bunk adjacent to Percy and Nico’s own tier. Luckily, Percy’s casual rambling hasn’t scared him off. Instead, Frank looks lost in his own world for a second, then stares at them inquisitively.

“Was Reyna a good person?” he asks finally.

“Reyna is the only reason this camp is still running with Roman tradition,” Nico explains, not the slightest bit of humor in his voice. “Why?”

“Oh, uh. Thalia just said that if Reyna was around, she would’ve judged me for the merits of my actions and not for what my ancestors did.” Once Frank gets started on the subject, he immediately looks like he regrets it. Whatever lineage he’s referring to is clearly still a sore subject for him. Or maybe it’s a mystery.

Nico supposes that’s the beauty of being a demigod. He tugs at his own long sleeve purple shirt, hiding the tattoo at his arm.

Percy flashes a sympathetic look. “Thalia’s a little lost without Reyna. She’s probably living by WWRD right now. _‘What Would Reyna Do_.’”

Frank looks tickled by the thought before he realizes neither of the other demigods are joking.

They take him to the Forum after a brief tour of the barracks and the rest of the campgrounds. Frank describes the marketplace like an outdoor mall, enticed by all of the legacies and nymphs and fauns bartering for goods and services. He almost gets a decorative leather belt when Nico reminds him he doesn’t even have armor yet. They stop briefly at an armory, where Nico catches a glance at Leo and quickly saunters behind Percy.

Percy rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

Nico doesn’t respond. He’s planted firmly behind his tall Neptunian shield.

He hears Percy greet Leo candidly, explain Frank’s current situation, and lets Leo show the different array of imperial gold weapons behind the booth. Frank immediately gets attached to a bow and quiver.

“Really?” Leo frowns. “A guy like you doesn’t want an axe?”

“A guy like me?” Frank repeats.

“Big? Chubby?” Leo waves his hand around quickly per usual, and Nico rolls his eyes. “Looks like he could break wood with his bare hands but also fart at the same time?”

“ _Chubby_?” Frank repeats again, this time sounding hurt.

It’s so painful that Nico slams money on the table and collects both the quiver and bow before the Son of Vulcan can say anymore hurtful things.

That doesn’t keep Leo from calling after him, of course. “Goodbye to you too, Steve Rogers.”

Ugh.

After some reassurance that _most_ of Leo’s comments can be _interpreted_ in a friendly way, Frank seems to calm down. He seems happy and relieved to have Nico as his sponsor and grateful that the Fifth Cohort centurions are taking him under his wing. All in all, Nico thinks that Frank will adjust pretty well to life at Camp Jupiter. He’ll probably ask for grief counselling in the days to come.

(The inevitable initiation comes a few later, when Frank bursts into the Fifth Cohort barracks, chubby baby face accentuated by Camp Jupiter’s standard crew cut. Percy laughs himself to tears and Nico has to explain that shaving your head at camp is _optional._ He points to his messy bedhead and Percy’s undercut as proof.)

*

A month passes, and Nico finds himself painfully on edge. He doesn’t like not knowing where Reyna is. If he had it his way, he would keep all of his friends (even Percy) at arm’s length but knows that he can’t. They’ve all done their fair share of mission that have taken days to months at a time. But this is Reyna, and generally for Nico’s sake, she calls.

Octavian is relentless in trying to get votes as praetor. Thalia seems like she’s humoring the idea, but when the Apollo legacy manages to sway more than zero people, she looks ready to squash him like a bug. The Coliseum has had less screamo concerts now that she’s drowning in paperwork.

“Did you know you have to sign a permit to hold a concert _every time?_ ” Thalia spats one day in her office, grumbling at the thirty-paged document.

“Reyna did,” Nico offers. “She’s usually the one filling it out for you.”

Thalia only curses louder as she waves her hand and magically staples papers together. Mostly, she just seems depressed. Lonely, even. Nico makes sure to drop by with Reyna’s favorite cup of coffee each morning, if only to cheer her up a little.

Percy’s on edge, too. He offers to go on scouting missions near the Bermuda triangle just in case Circe’s Island is what called Reyna away. Thalia refuses all of his requests. She doesn’t want anyone else close to her to go missing, and she needs all the people she can get to complain about Octavian. Percy sighs at the last one.

“Why don’t you run for praetor?” Frank asked one morning in the Mess Hall after he notices the pair of centurions walking out of the principia. “You’re really cool and powerful and everyone likes you.”

“People haven’t liked descendants of Neptune since Shen Lun caused an earthquake that took down Camp Jupiter,” Percy explains. He waves his hand dismissively and shakes his head.

Nico rolls his eyes and squeezes scone. “Plus Thalia and he would kill each other.”

“Yes.” Percy shakes his PB&J around. “And that.”

Again, it takes Frank a moment to realize they’re not joking. He crumples at Percy’s comment about Shen Lun, then stares at Nico for a moment, curious. “Why wouldn’t you do it? You’re son of Jupiter.”

“Mm,” Nico offers.

“Jupiter Maximus is the biggest temple we have at Temple Hill. And the camp is _named_ after your dad. Shouldn’t you be like, a natural born leader?”

“Not really,” Nico says. He leaves it at that. Shoots a glare before Frank can raise more questions.

Eventually, Nico contemplates later as he climbs up the Jupiter Maximus for his afternoon nap, Frank will stop asking questions about why he isn’t praetor. The praetorship is as good as his if he just says yes, but it’s just not a word that’s in his vocabulary.

At age ten, Thalia found him at the Lotus Casino, drawn to him because of his aura. She made a big show of collapsing the hotel when she realized the monster she was after had trapped her in there—and while Nico entered with his sister, he was forced to leave without her. He’d cried for days, unable to coax with the idea that Bianca was gone. A week after that, Thalia explained why she brought him with her—and lo and behold, Nico was claimed.

At age eleven, he mused the thought that maybe they could summon Bianca’s spirit. Of course, Thalia’s repertoire as a Daughter of Pluto didn’t expand further than the gold bars she passed to Terminus so she could hold her undead concerts with the lares at midnight. They never found Bianca’s spirit.

At age eleven and a day, he fell into depression over Bianca’s death all over again, and Percy, Thalia, and Reyna all took turns making sure he ate, he bathed, and telling him jokes.

Age eleven and two days, they asked if he wanted to be praetor. Nico declined—he didn’t like the idea of bossing around his three favorite people.

Then at age twelve, they asked again, and then at age thirteen, and by his fourteenth birthday, Nico decided it was probably a formality. (Reyna told him that no, it was not a formality and Nico still politely turned her down.)

He sees the way Thalia’s eyes glaze over sometimes, when someone talks about something that happened while she was stuck inside. She gets a little sad sometimes—wistful, like she’s wondering how much of life has passed her since she was stuck in the Lotus Casino. _Whose_ lives have _passed_ her.

Of course, the amount of time that has passed for Thalia is just a fraction for Nico, and he has no semblance of patience to figure out how to relate with his comrades other than the pillars of tradition spawned by Roman deities and emperors.

He’s not that good at talking anyway. Even when he’s happy, people still give him weird looks. Bianca was always better at her words, even if they came out timidly. Sometimes he wonders what it would’ve been like if they left together. She’d be a much better praetor than him, able to soothe people with her words and sweet smiles. He likes to share the thought with Percy sometimes. How much Percy probably would’ve liked her. Reyna would’ve approved of her. He likes to think that Bianca would’ve looked at Reyna’s regal presence and admired her in the way Nico does.

When he gets quiet, he goes and talks to Thalia about it, and they agree that the Lotus Casino just _really_ sucked.

He thinks if he likes Frank enough, he’ll tell the big guy his reasons why. After all, Percy hit the nail on the head—Camp Jupiter has a dyslexia-friendly education system, higher level learning, amazing food, grief counselling (it was Nico’s idea once they realized the war was going to come to fruition) and family.

Nico’s happy.

*

The wind changes for Nico one morning when he notices two people stepping towards the Jupiter Maximus during his nap. He waits on the rooftop for a moment, curious of the new voices beneath his feet.

It’s jarring for him when he hears, “…this is my father?”

He scales off the side of the Temple of the Jupiter masterfully and enters the temple. Two demigods meet his gaze: a short African-American girl with cinnamon brown hair as full as a nimbus cloud and gold eyes as rich as the setting sun.

The other is a tall blond—hair parted neatly to the side. He’s really the one that suddenly makes Nico irritated—ethereal looking and pale as any lares that Nico has seen in the Mess Hall—with a fitted leather jacket, white t-shirt, black pants, and black boots. The only color on him is a set of fourteen painted beads around his neck.

From the neck down, Nico thinks the guy looks like a greaser. From the neck up, Nico sees dark, oily eyes that are far too unsettling. The blond hair comically takes away from whatever vibe he’s going for. He looks like Sandy Olsson after she changed herself for Danny Zuko. (All of the leather jackets are Thalia’s guilty pleasures.) 

They stare at him, bewildered.

“Hi,” Nico says slowly, his voice immediately filled with distrust. There’s a way the girl looks at him, her gaze pensive even if it’s not on purpose.

“Hi,” the guy echoes, though he doesn’t reach for a sword the same way Nico does. In fact, he scrutinizes Nico for a moment, those intense eyes taking all of him in.

“You’re not campers,” Nico says slowly, trying to keep his voice even. “And you’re not New Romans.”

“No—we’re not.” The guy evidently regains his composure from whatever mesmerized him about Nico and instead extends a hand. “I’m Jason Grace. This is Hazel Levesque. She’s a daughter of Ze—of Jupiter.”

Hazel smiles at him nervously, one cinnamon eyebrow arched in the air. The gust catches in her curls, letting them twist and rivet around them.

Nico doesn’t believe it for a moment. “And who are you supposed to be?”

“Oh. I’m an ambassador to Pluto.” Jason Grace smiles back at him. The otherworldly way his skin glows under the shadows of Jupiter’s Temple is odd. Nico doesn’t like it.

“Ambassador,” Nico repeats wryly, stretching the word with his mouth. “Do tell more.”

Jason frowns, though Nico can’t ascertain why. He would think that if _he’d_ snuck some girl into Jason Grace’s territory and suddenly insisted she was a child of the Big Three, he’d get the same kind of attitude. Nico doesn’t like people he doesn’t know.

And he especially doesn’t like that this ghostly so-called _Ambassador of Pluto_ is smiling at him so candidly.

“We just got into New Rome,” Jason Grace starts slowly. “Hazel just found out she was a demigod not too long ago. I’m trying to show her around.”

“As an ambassador,” Nico reiterates. “Because you have that power. Pluto gave you that privilege.”

“Well,” Jason Grace says—he either looks irritated or uncomfortable. Maybe both. “Yeah.”

“Have you met Thalia?” Nico says next. He gestures to the principia. “She’d probably give you a grand tour if you _really_ wanted it, ambassador.”

*

Thalia would use every excuse in the book to get out of praetor paperwork if she could. Nico is sure that she’d be thrilled to kick some so-called Ambassador to Pluto out of New Rome. They would probably still accept Hazel Levesque, _if_ she’s really who Jason Grace claims she is.

Except, the righteous moment doesn’t go as planned. They interrupt Thalia’s office hours while she’s telling Percy how she’s about to kick Octavian’s ass into high noon. She has her usual cup of Reyna’s coffee at her desk and is spelling out _FUCK YOU_ in staples when Nico enters.

Hazel Levesque and Jason Grace look confused by the sight. Percy’s just making sure that Reyna and Thalia’s pet goldfish is being fed.

“Oh, Nico.” Thalia grins when he enters—and pauses when she sees the two other additions.

Part of Nico feels bad. Hazel Levesque looks incredibly uncomfortable and she doesn’t radiate with nearly the same irritable energy as Jason Grace, _Ambassador to Pluto_ does.

“New campers?” Thalia guesses, her tone light.

“He says he’s an Ambassador to Pluto,” Nico explains. He gestures to Jason, and then to Hazel. “And she’s apparently a daughter of Jupiter.”

Percy’s frowning immediately. The last _Big Three_ sibling they came across was Tyson, and they all know he’s happily interning with cyclopses at the bottom of the sea. Thalia arches an eyebrow, doubtful—but it’s probably the most interesting news she’s received all month aside from Octavian’s approval rating going from 1.1% to 2%.

By now, Jason Grace looks both flustered and annoyed. He smiles warmly despite that and extends a hand. “I’m Jason Grace. There’s a misunderstanding here—”

Thalia’s hands slam onto the office desk. The sound reverberates and echoes off the walls. Her dark, oily eyes widen at the name, and she practically lunges at him. Nico has seen her move swiftly—but not as swiftly as she does to pinch Jason Grace’s face between her hands and stare at his mouth.

“You have a scar on your lip,” she says with bemusement. Tears glisten in her eyes. It’s the softest she’s looked, even before Reyna disappeared. “From the time you tried to eat a stapler.”

Nico freezes. Percy’s jaw drops.

Jason looks just as startled, his fingers slowly grazing the said mark on his mouth. His eyes are fearful for a moment. “I’m—sorry. Do we know each other?”

“ _Jason_ ,” Thalia says with practically all the joy in the world. The name is _familiar_ on her tongue, and she’s brimming with happiness. Her lips curl into a grin. “I’m your _sister._ ”

Oh.

Nico’s hands fall at his sides.

“I—I don’t have any family, other than my father.” Jason’s eyes widen for a moment, still put off by the hands around his face. “Alecto left me at—when I was—I mean…” It’s clear that this whole _ambassador_ business is supposed to be a façade, but whatever truth or serendipitous feeling he’s having dies in his throat.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Thalia admits. She pulls her hands away, looking absolutely _soft_ —which has _never_ been a word that Nico would use to describe the daughter of Pluto. “C’mon.”

All the while, Nico can’t find his own voice. He turns his gaze back to Hazel Levesque, who stares back at him, unwavering.

Apparently they had a lot to talk about too.

*

“Thalia’s last name is _Grace_?” Nico asks in disbelief later. “I’ve never heard her last name in my life.”

“Reyna doesn’t go by her full name either. Monsters are usually cursing me out and like to use my full name. We all do what we want. You know, like how you add your middle initial when you introduce yourself.” Percy’s a little confused by the whole situation. They watch Thalia raving from the other side of the sushi bar while Jason Grace’s eyes seem to melt with every word. “Nico D. Angelo.”

Nico stares at him for a moment. “My middle name doesn’t start with a _D_ , that’s just part of my last name.”

“Wait—really?” Percy stares at him, the sushi popping out from between his chopsticks. “Since _when?_ ”

“Since I was _born_.” Nico rolls his eyes at the Son of Neptune in favorite glancing back over to the booth where their praetor sat. There’s a way she’s grinning from cheek-to-cheek that Nico hasn’t seen before. There’s a fondness from just looking at this so-called Ambassador to Pluto, and a newfound light that makes Nico uncomfortable. He’s never seen that before, either.

Nico’s used to watching Thalia’s madman eyes glitter before the War Games, or the victorious grin she gives Reyna when their lost praetor would concede to her—but this is different.

_Thalia Grace_. The name doesn’t even _sound_ right in Nico’s head. He’s reminded of the fourteen-year-old demigod who shined brighter than any of the golden coins at the Lotus Casino, so blindingly beautiful like a precious jewel and hard like a diamond when she approached him. She looked so sure of herself when she approached his ten-year-old self back then, unlike the other kids consumed by lottery winnings and neon arcade games.

She didn’t flinch when she assumed the role of praetor. Just smiled a somber smile and reassured Nico that Centurion Jackson and she would do everything in their power to make Camp Jupiter a home.

They turned their back on the Lotus Casino and their old lives when they left together.

Nico drowns his Philadelphia roll in soy sauce and wrinkles his nose. He looks back to Jason Grace and notices the ambassador’s face slackening and composure thawing with each of Thalia’s blissful words. Hazel Levesque, a third party at the booth, looks Nico’s way curiously with those golden sunset eyes.

So why did they have to _drag out_ that old life?

“So you have a sister,” Percy notes. He keeps his eyes at the booth after Nico averts his eyes, the intrigue apparent. “Do you think she’s older or younger than you?”

Nico shoots him a dull look. “Why would that matter?”

“Because we have to figure out if you’re finally a big brother, or still a little brother.” He smiles in a way that makes Nico flush. Percy is definitely taking the news better than he is, but there’s something nonsensical about this.

“I have you, Thalia, and Reyna,” Nico protests. He waves the drenched sushi around with ire in his voice. “Besides—no one is older than me.”

Percy takes his answer reasonably enough. He smiles back at Nico in a way only a kelp-for-brains could and continues with the rest of his food. “When are we going to tell Frank that you’re a senior citizen?”

“When Frank can handle the sign of blood from a paper cut,” Nico shoots back. “So never.”

“You know, we’re going to have another senate meeting because of them,” Percy muses. “She’s going to need a place to stay.”

Nico dreads the thought. It hasn’t really crossed his mind yet about the _permanence_ of the situation. Obviously, in the five years that Nico has known Thalia, keeping secrets didn’t just make Jason Grace, Ambassador of Pluto just _go away_. He stabs the salmon in his sushi roll violently.

And he doesn’t even know what Hazel Levesque’s back story is yet. He can just tell that she’s miles ahead as a child of Jupiter. They probably don’t even have anything in common, other than the fact that their dad is a manwhore who can’t keep that _Optimus Maximus_ cock in his toga.

“The First Cohort can take her,” Nico says finally. “Maybe they’ll finally leave me alone and Reyna can have a child of Jupiter as her partner once Thalia steps down.”

“They’ll definitely be fighting over her if she’s really a Child of Jupiter,” Percy agrees. He surprises Nico out of left field next. “How are you doing with Reyna gone?”

Nico sets his chopsticks down and frowns at his wasabi. He misses her.

“Let’s go skip some rocks.” Percy throws some money on the table and stands to his feet. “One good thing about her being gone means no one can ride our asses for skipping out on centurion duties.”

Honestly, Nico misses that too.

(He vaguely wonders if they forgot to dismiss Frank from dung-cleaning duty this morning.)

When they leave the restaurant, he pretends not to notice all-mighty Ambassador Grace and pretty Hazel Levesque’s lingering eyes going after him.

*

“Seriously? The ‘D’ doesn’t stand for anything?”

“It stands for _di Angelo_.” Nico rolls his eyes and takes a long sip of his pepsi. He grabs a flat rock from the riverbed of the Little Tiber and flicks his wrist. The rock sinks in an instant. “There’s no hidden meaning, _Perseus Jackson._ ”

Percy flushes at the mention of his full name. He reaches for a rock just at the tip of Nico’s fingers and tosses it into the water. It doesn’t sink and it doesn’t skip—it just floats. Slowly, the rock makes it back to the coast and a giggling naiad hands it back to the Son of Neptune.

Admittedly, Nico had absorbed a shameful amount of knowledge about Percy Jackson back when he was little. Sally Jackson had taken a life-altering road trip from New York City to SoCal after high school. With no intention of ever getting a hotel, she and her friends spent nights on the beach listening to the ocean waves. Her quirky attitude is what attracted Neptune all the way from the east coast, and after one fateful summer, Percy was born. Sally named him _Perseus_ , because it was the only tale she knew that had a happy ending.

(Nico can’t help but think of Jason and the Argonauts, who died after breaking his promise of loving Medea forever and was crushed by the body of his own ship. Maybe it’s a little mean of him.)

Nico was probably a little _too_ intrigued by the thirteen-year-old centurion, who had sand in his wavy hair and smelled like saltwater, when Percy came into the senate meeting late. Nico asked _a lot_ of questions and Percy was nice enough to answer all of them while trying to help him cope with the loss of Bianca. Percy also seemed to be more well-adjusted than Thalia, who was still recovering from losing years of her life from the Lotus Casino.

But it’s conversations like these that reminds Nico that if his crush ever sprouted into something more, he would go crazy. His fantasy of stealing a ship off the New Rome dock and traversing the world as an infamous pirate couple died when Percy tried to debate whether cereal was a soup _._ (Nico was also ten and stupid. He lost a little of respect for both Percy _and_ Thalia when they got into a heated debate that almost culminated into a War Game.)

They’re far better as friends, with Percy keeping Nico pleasant company and Nico reassuring Percy that the yearly summer trip back to New York City will be _better_ this time.

(Percy keeps trying to convince him to come visit. Olympus is there, after all. Maybe it’d be fun to spit off the 600th Floor of the Empire State Building. Nico insists that he’s not going to spend days in a car with Percy just to be a glorified permission slip.)

“Maybe Reyna is on vacation,” Percy suggests. He tosses the rock again. They watch as it skips across the length of the calm Little Tiber. He grins victoriously before handing a different rock to Nico. “She took Aurum and Argentum with her.”

“Or Aurum and Argentum are also missing,” Nico refutes. He throws the rock into the water. It sinks, and he decides it’s a sign that pirate life would never appreciate him.

“If they’re missing _together_ , then they’ll keep each other safe. Besides—I think they need a break from Thalia messing with their innards.” Percy chuckles softly and opens a can of pepsi. He hums appreciatively. “Son of big, ugly Jupiter Optimus Maximus—and _free pepsi_ is the only perk you care about.”

“Are you complaining?” Nico snorts.

“No. The Mess Hall chalices never seem to get it right.”

“That’s because you _insist_ on making it blue.”

“Everything should be blue _,_ ” Percy protests. “Nothing about the taste should change. It should just be able to change colors.”

Nico sighs.

Out of nowhere, another rock lifts from between them and skids the length of the riverbank. They turn their heads, met with the sight of annoying Jason Grace, pretty Hazel Levesque, and smiling Thalia. Nico admits that if nothing else, it’s nice to see their praetor happy again. Even if that annoying ambassador is the reason for it.

Percy raises his can in victory, and the gestures to the ghostly blond. “Got any moves?”

“Oh—moving rocks?” Jason’s pale eyebrows furrow together, startled, and he shakes his head. “That’s not really part of my skillset.”

“What is your skillset?” Nico’s gaze narrows. He can’t help but notice the way Jason is staring at him specifically.

“I’m not a fighter.” The edge of Jason’s lip curls into a faint smile.

“Really?” Thalia reaches out and squeezes the blond demigod’s arm. “Because you look _jacked_ , baby brother. You could probably squat like, five Nicos.”

“Yeah, on each arm,” Percy muses.

“I don’t fight _anymore_ ,” Jason repeats, this time correcting himself. The red in his cheeks is so obvious against his pale skin. He’d probably burn on a cloudy day. Regardless of that, it’s even more obvious now that he’s staring at Nico.

“Jason, Hazel,” Thalia says, not missing a beat. “This is Percy Jackson, Son of Neptune and Nico di Angelo, Son of Jupiter. They’re the centurions of the Fifth Cohort.”

“Di Angelo?” Jason repeats—and Nico has to arch an eyebrow. Jason looks back at him, his dark eyes suddenly sparking with something. “Oh my gods, you’re _that_ Nico?”

Not many people hear his full title and dissect his _last name_ of all things. Nico suddenly feels the knots twisting in his stomach.

“So the infamous Son of Jupiter is known even in the Underworld?” Percy muses half-heartedly. He nudges Nico with his shoulder. “Looks like you’re building a reputation whether you like it or not, Neeks.”

Nico resists the urge to shove Percy into the water. It wouldn’t do much—Jackson would just come back dry.

“No—” There’s a way that Jason’s hard eyes soften that makes him look a little sadder. His eyebrows knit together delicately, and he’s got the same nostalgic look on his face that Thalia had earlier in the praetor’s office. Except it’s directed at _Nico._ “I knew your sister. Bianca.”

Nico’s heart clenches in his chest. Percy’s usual mischievous smirk and lackadaisical eyes sober, and Thalia’s smile fades.

“We fought together in the war,” Jason says softly. “I’m so sorry, Nico—she died.”

It takes a moment for Nico to process the words. He looks at those rich, oily eyes that are suddenly sweet and tender. They stare back at him like they’ve known him for years. Thalia and Percy are both leaning in, evidently trying to gauge his reaction—but honestly, Nico’s just confused.

“Yeah,” Nico says slowly. “And?”

Apparently that startles Ambassador Jason Grace. His earlier words made him sound like he was finally letting the other foot drop.

Nico knows the look on his own face is just emanating with discomfort. Nico can feel the static tingling at the tips of his fingers, and the clouds suddenly shroud the sun, like a warning.

He doesn’t need some lousy estranged child of Pluto taking away Thalia _and_ bringing up Bianca.

Percy claps a hand on Nico’s back before he can do anything stupid. The Son of Neptune shakes his head in dismay. “Bianca’s name must _also_ be popular down in the Underworld, Ambassador Grace—” His tone is careful. Nico doesn’t often hear Percy grow wary. “—Nico’s the only one that Thalia could find before she destroyed the Lotus Hotel and Casino. I’m sure the spirits rave about _every_ Child of Jupiter. Like Hercules.”

Yeah, like that stupid son of Jupiter, Hercules.

“No, I—” Jason’s voice suddenly drops again, and he keeps _looking_ at Nico with those eyes that look like they’ve seen too much. “I _knew_ her.”

The way the word just _hums_ so intimately in Jason Grace’s mouth makes Nico’s blood boil more.

“I met her about five years ago. She told me that she had a little brother, but we both thought that you died.” Jason gives him this stupid, pitying look that makes Nico want to crush his pepsi can. He doesn’t stop talking. “We tried to look for your spirit, but I—I couldn’t summon you. I just assumed you chose reincarnation.”

_Summon_ him? Nico could laugh. Jason Grace could barely illicit a smile out of Nico and now this ghostly demigod royal from the Underworld is talking about _summoning_ him, like he’s just some lowly commoner or one of the naiads that Percy charms.

“Where did she go, then?” Nico asks, unable to keep the tension out of his voice.

“I’m…sorry?” Jason’s voice falters, like a confused hellhound.

“Thalia brought me here. You brought Hazel Levesque _here_ , ambassador.” Nico gestures to his new sibling for a moment, his tone cynical. “So if you knew Bianca the way you say you do, where did she go?”

The question, thank gods, stumps the ambassador. He looks like that deer caught in headlights, like when he described _Alecto_ and being dropped off somewhere. Maybe it’s the Jupiter in Nico—being unable to trust a child of Pluto (despite how much Nico treasures his relationship with Thalia)—but there’s something that’s just so _irritating_ about that face.

Jason looks stumped, his lips and stupid stapler scar suddenly pressed together.

“Actually—” Hazel Levesque’s voice finally calls their attention. It’s as sweet as birds chirping. She gestures to the sky, where the cloudy air has now turned stormy and black because of Nico’s own temper. “I wanted to talk to you too.”

Nico glances her way, and a sigh drops from the back of his throat. He sees those golden eyes and something about them just makes his heart ache.

She acts like a mediator, one hand casually over Jason’s forearm while she stares at him with that same longing in the hue of her own eyes. “Can we talk? In private?”

He notes the ire in Thalia’s demeanor, clearly annoyed at his jabbing towards Jason Grace, and the uneasy grimace in Percy’s face. Nico lets go of the breath from the back of his throat. The clouds suddenly part again, sunlight leaking through the horizon as he rolls his eyes.

“Sure,” he says.

*

As it turns out, Hazel Levesque has much more in common with Nico than he thought. Marie Levesque was a magnificent fortuneteller that caught the eye of Zeus—

(“You mean Jupiter?” Nico asked absentmindedly, still stunned as she revealed how life was like in New Orleans, Louisiana back in the 1930s.

“Oh,” she said nervously. “Yes, Jupiter.”)

—and her tagline was that she could control the Fates themselves. Jupiter was attracted to her sense of power. They moved to Alaska when Hera ( _“Juno?”_ Nico corrected again.) was enraged by the affair and continued to move in order to stay away from their evil stepmother. Eventually, Marie had been punished for seducing the King of the Gods and killed.

Hecate, the goddess of the Mist and Marie’s patron goddess, took pity on Hazel and put her in a deep slumber for the next few decades. The Mist disguised Hazel’s sleeping form as an oak tree, and as Queen of the Gods, Juno never thought to destroy one of her husband’s symbols.

Nico stands in front of the Jupiter Maximus, stunned as Hazel tells her story. She sounds lost and lonely as she’s describing the series of events. He feels the sorrow bubbling in his own chest and the apology rolls out.

“Did you leave anyone behind?” Nico asks quietly.

Hazel’s warm cheeks glow warmer with a bit of sanguine beneath them. “There was a boy. Sammy Valdez. When I woke up at—when Jason found me, he took me to Sammy’s resting spot to make peace. It helped.”

They _must_ be related if a Valdez is involved. Nico twitches and shoves the thought in the back of his mind. He turns his gaze back to the bulbous statue of their father, his heart suddenly filled with a bit of remorse and pity.

“Jason’s not your usual demigod,” Hazel continues. “He’s taken this whole _grief_ aspect of being a Son of Hades and has helped a lot of people through it. He says death isn’t always scary. People die, but the ones who survive need to be pacified, too. A lot of deaths are even peaceful.”

Nico’s hand scrapes across the tattoo on his arm. He wonders how peaceful it was for Bianca.

“But I don’t think he knows how to help me with my powers,” Hazel admits. Even her voice sounds a little sympathetic for Ambassador Grace. “They say he seems a little lost after the war. More so after Bianca died. I never knew her, by the way.”

She suddenly gets self-conscious, the realization that Bianca is a sore subject for the son of Jupiter. Nico suddenly feels like a jerk for not being nicer to Hazel.

“But he speaks very highly of her. I think he’s getting overwhelmed. He won’t tell me what happened during the war.” Hazel’s expression shifts, frustrated. “I woke up after it was over.”

Nico can’t help but sympathize. There’s something frustrating about stepping out a door and realizing that decades have passed by—your name no longer having meaning to anyone other than an arrogant deity. He’s so dumbfounded by the whole situation that he doesn’t take the time to correct her again when she says Hades instead of Pluto.

There’s an airiness about her voice that Nico really likes. It calms him down, honestly. 

“Well,” Nico says awkwardly. He’s the worst tour guide for this kind of thing. “If you stay, then you’ll see where our roots lie. Camp Jupiter tries to bring the best out of everyone. The First Cohort would take you eagerly.”

Hazel’s gaze glitters for a moment, confused. “I thought Thalia said that Percy and you led the Fifth Cohort.”

“We do,” Nico responds without missing a beat. However, his heart drops in his chest as the consequences of Hazel staying here truly set in. He feels himself growing self-conscious, reminded that he’s bad at talking. And he’s probably the worst Son of Jupiter since the dawn of time. “I…just don’t think that I’m the best person to teach you about our father.”

She stares back at him, disappointed.

If Bianca were around, she’d have the patience to teach their new sister about Jupiter. Probably. Nico’s not sure how she would’ve reacted to the demigod thing—she used to roll her eyes when Nico rambled about Mythomagic. She might’ve found the whole thing lame.

He shoves the prattling thought out of his mind.

To his surprise, Hazel sighs in defeat and offers a smile. “I’ll talk it over with Jason and see what he thinks the best course of action is.”

Ugh. A sinking feeling etches in the pit of Nico’s stomach. He dreads the thought of having to indoctrinate some stupid ambassador of Pluto into the Fifth Cohort, too. But he looks back to his newfound sister, who seems sure of Jason Grace’s lead. Hazel apparently has nothing but the utmost confidence for Jason Grace.

“I should head back,” Hazel admits. “But—Nico?”

“Yes?” Nico looks at her—genuinely trying to understand everything about Hazel Levesque. She reminds Nico of a calm sunny day, where light shines through clouds and creates cool shadows.

“This new sibling thing works both ways. If you need someone to talk to,” Hazel says, “about…weird _modern_ stuff, I’m here.”

Ah. Nico can’t help but blush. The corner of his lip curls upward. “Ditto.”

He supposes this means he’s still _little brother._

*

Apparently, everyone takes Hazel returning by herself as a cue to leave Nico alone. Mister Head In the Clouds di Angelo gets to climb back up the Jupiter Maximus to catch up on his afternoon nap. Nico can’t help but admit to himself that he’s afraid of _ruining_ whatever relationship Hazel Levesque and he could have before it even starts, but she seems understanding of his reluctance.

Maybe even more so after he embarrassingly debated on smiting Jason Grace.

He’s not in the mood to watch Thalia’s face light up and animate again for this ambassador. Percy will probably get him before they call _lights out_ at the barracks. They’ll ask him if he’s okay, after that ghostly blond royal from the Underworld decided to bring up the _B_ name.

Well. It’ll probably just be _Percy_ asking if he’s okay, like he did with Reyna.

As the evening dusk rolls in, Nico rolls onto his side on the rooftop of the Temple of Jupiter and pathetically feels his heart tittering in his chest. He doesn’t like the way their sad Thalia lit up at the mention of this new baby brother. It makes it feel like Reyna’s disappearance is no longer important.

Reyna has been gone for a month now. And Nico refuses to believe that she’s dead, too.

As the moonlight shines over Nico, he pushes himself against the rooftop to look at the sky. He’s never been one to care for storms. The quiet melody of crickets chirping and winds singing were his favorite parts of being a Son of Jupiter. Not the ability to conjure a tornado at will—but to carry on the circle of life with just a gentle gust—whether for pollen or to carry clouds to their next location.

“Ahem.”

Nico unsheathes his gladius immediately and swings it behind him—and freezes.

Standing at his silhouette in the darkness is the same annoying demigod that’s been bothering him all day. Dark eyes stare down at Nico, the moonlight accentuating the paleness of his cheekbones and shadows curling around the strong lines of his jaw, neck, and clavicle. The rest of the shadows seem to blend in with Jason Grace’s leather jacket and pants.

“ _Ambassador_.” Nico’s exasperation returns, his eyes narrowed.

Jason doesn’t even waver. The imperial gold of Nico’s sword casts a light on the other side of the demigod, accentuating yet another dark shadow to his face. The beads around Jason’s neck glimmer, and Nico can’t help but notice the line of faded scars that decorates the edge of Jason’s chest.

“Son of Jupiter,” Jason greets, evidently trying to match Nico’s tone. It’s not cute at all.

“How…?” Nico doesn’t finish the thought. He gestures to the ladder behind the Temple of Jupiter—the one thirteen-year-old Percy and he carried past Terminus way back when.

Jason blinks at him for a moment, confused. Then, he points to Nico’s feet. To his shadow.

Nico feels _violated._ “Is this part of your _skillset_? Because it’s _creepy._ ”

“Hazel told me you shooed her off.” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together, and that angers Nico more. The _creepy_ comment apparently bounces off of him.

Despite the desire to keep swinging his sword, Nico sheathes it instead. He runs a hand through his hair and plops back down on the temple rooftop. “She said she was going to _consult_ you on what to do next.”

“Thalia wanted to give her a tour of New Rome.”

Nico supposes by What Would Reyna Do standards, recruiting another child of Jupiter and grooming her for potential praetorship is probably on the list. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, annoyed.

The annoyance only grows when Jason Grace takes some unspoken cue to sit next to him. The hairs on Nico’s arms bristle.

Jason only stares back at him, hardheaded and oblivious to Nico’s look of absolute disdain. (This exasperation was probably how Reyna felt every time Thalia insisted the Daughter of Bellona was much better suited to fill out all of the paperwork and “diplomat stuff.”)

“So you’re not a praetor?” Jason asks—though he sounds much less timid than Frank.

“Nope.”

“And they didn’t make you shave your head?”

“Nope.”

“That’s an odd perk to exploit as a Son of Jupiter, don’t you think?”

“What do you want?” Nico turns his gaze back to Ambassador Grace of Pluto. Notices the way Jason smiles at him gently under the moonlight.

“Sorry.” There’s a way that Jason’s brow creases that reminds Nico of Thalia. “You just look a lot like her.”

Nico’s hand twitches. He doesn’t need to ask who _her_ is. The familiarity Jason Grace has when he speaks about Bianca is haunting to Nico—like it’s Bianca’s _ghost_ that has fascinated Ambassador Grace for the last five years. He doesn’t like the way the moonlight shines in Jason’s eyes like they’re giant mirrors, or how close the ambassador is. Nico doesn’t think he’ll ever get over having his _shadow_ violated.

But Hazel’s words come echoing back to him. Ambassador Grace was apparently lost after Bianca died. Is lost. Nico knows he used to feel that way, too.

“She used to talk about you all the time,” Jason Grace says. “She talked about how you would’ve loved knowing you were demigods.”

“I don’t.” Nico tugs at the hem of his sleeve.

“Really?” Jason seems genuinely surprised by this fact. Nico isn’t sure what kind of false narrative Jason’s been spoon fed, but he doesn’t like the thought of a complete stranger knowing any detail about him at all. “She said you were really into pirates. And that you’d be disappointed that you and she weren’t claimed by Poseidon.”

Nico’s hand clutches around his tattoo, his resolve suddenly wavering.

“We went back and searched for her spirit. She was always sadder around your birthday.” Jason’s own demeanor is solemn under the moonlight. “January 28th, right—?”

“Stop.” Nico clutches at his heart for a moment, his lungs collapsing in around his nerves. He pinches the bridge of his nose and scowls at Jason.

This time, Jason looks taken aback. Nico’s not surprised—Bianca probably never scowled at him when she was alive.

“ _I don’t know you_ ,” Nico snaps. His gaze narrows at the pale flesh of Jason’s skin, and the look of surprise in those dark, rich eyes. “Thalia never mentioned a _word_ about you and suddenly I’m supposed to believe she had a _brother_ and this _brother_ knew my _sister—_ who I already thought was _dead._ ”

There’s a way that Jason stares at him with those eyes that confirms something in Nico: he’s not the model brother that Bianca might’ve described, either, let alone a model Son of Jupiter the same way this demigod was (somehow) an _ambassador to Pluto._

“What do you want me to say,” Nico continues, the rage barreling in the back of his throat. “That I cried myself to sleep every single night for weeks when I thought she was dead? That Percy and Thalia had to coax me to eat because _starving to death_ made me feel closer to Bianca than being alive? That I get _angry_ when I think about the fact that Thalia was able to escape with _me_ out of the hotel, but not her?”

His finger tenses when he points it at Jason, but the words keep coming. Nico’s infuriated to have his day ruined—and instead of lashing _back_ , Jason Grace just stares back at him. Sure—Bianca probably never told the demigod that Nico had a temper, either. Or maybe Bianca told Jason Grace all the _bad_ things about Nico, like how he rambled and he had a habit of running his mouth, saying the wrong thing all the time. He knows he’s not like Bianca, and Jason Grace is probably getting that cold, hard realization right now.

“I don’t _need_ you to unravel this death for me, ambassador.” The annoying title is sour in Nico’s mouth, and there’s a little bit of _pleading_ in his voice. “I came to terms with the fact that I’d never see her again a long time ago.”

Jason’s gaze falls, crestfallen. Nico doesn’t care. If this joint siblingship of Thalia is going to continue, he needs to make sure this demigod understands his boundaries.

“Okay,” Jason says finally, and that seems to be the end of it. The disappointment is still evident.

They sit in silence after that. Nico’s used to people leaving him alone when he’s upset. He can count on one hand how many times he’s _been_ upset in the last few years, which probably makes this worse. Jason Grace sitting there is a painful reminder that he’s probably not going away anytime soon, and that only makes Nico more annoyed.

“Can you,” Jason whispers quietly, “at least help Hazel out?”

Hazel is the only common ground that Nico is willing to budge on.

“It’s what Bianca would want,” Jason says again.

Nico wrinkles his nose, still not pleased that their father brought another demigod into the world only to be tortured by monsters and Juno. It’s the _only_ reason why he’s considering it. _Not_ because of the way Ambassador Grace asks. “I’ll think about it.”

If Jason Grace makes one more comparison of Nico to Bianca, then Nico may kill someone.

Jason beams all the same. The way his smile stretches under the shadows reminds Nico of Thalia once more. He leans into Nico for a moment, far too close for comfort. “We’ll keep in touch.”

“What are you—”

The ambassador presses a hand into Nico’s dark silhouette. A shiver crawls up Nico’s spine and he watches Jason disappear into a pool of shadows.

*

Later that night, Frank returns to the barracks, covered head to toe in Hannibal’s feces and tears in his eyes.

Percy throws a hand over his nose. “Bro—you smell like _shit._ ”

Nico shoves a pillow in his own face as Frank blubbers in protest. They _did_ forget.

Frank huffs in displeasure, wiping fecal matter off his brow. “No one dismissed me!”

*

Jason and Hazel are gone in the morning when Nico wakes up.

Apparently, Thalia explains when he hands her Reyna’s signature coffee, Hazel didn’t like the idea of binding herself to ten years of service in the Legion when she’d already missed out on so much of her life. Nico glances at the inked lines of his own tattoo and pulls the sleeve of his hoodie over his wrist.

Percy’s busying himself feeding the goldfish like he does every morning. He pulls Thalia’s latest array of staples out of the filing cabinet door.

The amount of relief Nico feels that Ambassador Grace is gone is immeasurable. He decides not to comment on it when he sees how disappointed Thalia looks.

(He _is_ disappointed in himself for making such a bad impression with Hazel.)

“He said they’d come back,” Thalia reassures, her smile gentle. She gestures to Nico, one impressionable eyebrow in the air. “And that you promised to train Hazel?”

“I didn’t promise. I said I’d think about it.” Nico’s expression sours, which only makes Thalia grin.

“I never thought I’d have the chance to see him again,” Thalia admits. She fiddles idly with the pen in her hand. For the first time in the last month, she signs paperwork without so much of a swear. “He was only two when I left.”

“Yeah, about that.” Percy turns around, having finished feeding their friend. “How long has your last name been _Grace_?”

Thalia’s smile fades, and her dark eyes look angry for a moment. It’s the same look Reyna gave when Percy tried to pronounce _her_ full name. But the story comes out. Nico’s never heard it before.

Beryl Grace was a big TV star from the eighties. She _invented_ the name Beryl Grace and left her old life behind, obsessed with the idea of becoming rich and famous in Los Angeles. Her obsession with fame and glory apparently attracted the God of Wealth and the Dead, who was fascinated how far she would go to keep the net worth of her name. Beryl was drunk from her newfound money and influence. She and Thalia never got along.

After a string of poor financial decisions and terrible investments, Beryl was withering away along with her career. Pluto visited her again, this time truly falling in love with the person behind the dying façade. He was a little different, Thalia explained. More tender, more at peace with his role in their lives. Jason was born not too long after that.

When Thalia was old enough (about seven), Pluto asked if she wanted to start training in New Rome. She left, knowing that Beryl left her dying career behind and was focused on being a good mother to baby Jason.

Being a year-rounder seemed to make sense, since like Percy, she didn’t have to deal with monsters trying to kill her in the mortal world. She just assumed that when Jason was old enough, Pluto would guide him to San Francisco, too.

It took one wrong quest to make Thalia lose years on her life. When she came back, Beryl Grace had died of a drunk car accident and her son was presumed dead, too. While Nico was coping with the fact he’d no longer see his sister again, Thalia was doing the same with her own brother. Maybe that was why Thalia felt so drawn to Nico.

When she finishes the story, she looks at Nico with the same, familiar regret in her eyes. It bothers him.

“If I knew even for a moment that Bianca was still in the casino,” Thalia whispers softly, “I would’ve run back into save her.”

A lump forms in the back of Nico’s throat. He nods slowly. “I know.”

Thalia never fails to remind him every birthday. He just remembers his younger self alternating between crying and yelling at her for not being a hero and saving _both_ of them. It makes him nauseous now, realizing that Thalia was patient with him _and_ dealing with her own demons.

“What do you think Jason does in his free time?” Percy frowns. “He must be doing pretty alright for himself with a hard body like that _and_ a formal title from Pluto.”

“He _did_ say he helped out in the war. Surprisingly enough.” Thalia rests her cheek in her hands, a proud smile across his face. “He was pretty firm about not fighting anymore, though.”

“A shame,” Percy admits. “That guy probably has a great sword-gripping hand.”

Nico stares at the Son of Neptune, a headache suddenly forming at his forehead. He rubs his temples, decidedly finished with this conversation about some tiresome Son of Pluto, and changes the subject. “We should start scouting for Reyna again.”

Luckily, it’s enough for Thalia and Percy to also change subjects. Thalia looks at him, the smile etched on his face growing wider. “‘ _We_?’”

“We,” Nico agrees. “I’ll take two eagles with me.”

Both of the other demigods stare at him.

“The eagles like me.” Nico’s cheeks burn and he glares.

“Yeah,” Percy agrees, his voice obscure. “But you don’t like the eagles.”

“I like them if it helps us find Reyna,” Nico protests. 

He likes them even more if that means they can drown the subject of Jason Grace, Ambassador to Pluto, and focus on more important matters: preventing Octavian from assuming praetorship and bringing everything back to normal.

After the second insistence, they relinquish.

“I’ll take Frank as backup,” Nico says. He owes the poor guy one after forgetting to dismiss him last night.

“Okay,” Thalia says after signing another document. “Percy, go as backup-backup.”

Percy throws his hands into the air and whoops.

Before they leave, Thalia reaches out and grabs Nico by the wrist. She looks at him with the same intensity that Jason Grace did last night. “Did you let Jason tell you what happened to Bianca?”

“No,” Nico says immediately. “I don’t want to know. Why, did you?”

She studies him, but lets his hand go. Even Percy looks curious of her reaction.

“I just want you to know that I trust Jason,” she says finally. “What actually happened to her might make you feel better.”

Finding out the exact circumstances of Bianca’s death would _not_ make Nico feel better. He wrinkles his nose at the thought. Instead of protesting Thalia’s decision to trust this ambassador, Nico chooses his next words carefully. “I trust _you_ , Thalia.”

“Me too.” Percy smiles.

After a returned smile and another string of curses from Thalia, Nico and Percy see themselves out. Nico watches as the excitement rivets off of Percy, a grin spread from cheek-to-cheek on the Son of Neptune’s face.

“I’ll go get Blackjack,” Percy says. “He’ll be so happy to finally stretch his wings.”

Nico nods. As he watches his fellow centurion grow smaller in the distance, he lets the wind brush against his own skin. He sucks in a breath, looking up at the sky—and lets the gales lift him off the ground. 

It’s a lot less creepy than traveling in the shadows, like some _other_ demigod.


	2. hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason wakes up after another nightmare of Luke’s dying corpse and blood in his hands.

Jason wakes up after another nightmare of Luke’s dying corpse and blood in his hands. His body shakes against the mattress, eyes glued to the ceiling and cold sweat running down his brow. Then he waits, under the quiet air of the Hermes Cabin. Waits for himself to calm down.

Off to the corner, he can hear Travis grumbling and thrashing against his own nightmare. Jason decides to ask about it later. Needs to.

Pushing off the bed, Jason inspects the rest of the cabin—of the other children of Hermes and some other claimed and unclaimed halfbloods that don’t have cabins of their own. Despite the amount of campers around him, it feels empty. Always has, since Luke left. And emptier now, with Luke dead.

He changes out of his night clothes under the light snores of his roommates and takes off for his morning jog.

The winter air is crisp in his nostrils, burning in his lungs as he takes a steady breath. As he passes each cabin, he notices the light of the Athena Cabin still bright from the evening before as they try to figure out where Annabeth is. The light of the Zeus’s Cabin is dim—and Jason hopes that means that Hazel was finally able to get a good night’s sleep.

He watches as naiads waken from evening’s slumber and wave at him from the canoe lake. Waves at the satyrs in the strawberry fields as they pick fruit that Mr. D miserably can’t turn into wine. Chiron glances over him with a pleasant smile as he passes the archery field, where their camp director is busy filling quivers with new arrows.

Like every morning, Jason makes his laps around Halfblood Hill until his heart finally feels even and he can breathe again. When he can finally feel calm. He’s drenched in sweat by the time he’s done, each huff coming out as a white cloud against his lips. Jason makes his way towards the med bay after that.

Will Solace is off in the corner washing his hands when he gets there. Jason lets out a breathy chuckle, announcing his presence in the light winter air.

The son of Apollo pauses at the other end of the tent. His skin is every bit as gold as all of the other Apollo kids from the Texas sun. Jason faintly compares it to the di Angelos—but knows it’s different. Will looks at him with a tired but sunny disposition, amusement clear on his face.

“Morning, Jace,” Will greets. “Come to drop off more lollipops?”

A nervous smile curls against Jason’s lips and he shakes his head. “Maybe later. Wanted to see if anyone came by last night.”

Will gestures to the bloodied tools that he was in the middle of washing. “Cabin Nine is still having trouble taming that dragon in the woods. I sent Mason back to bed with a cast last night.”

Right. It’s still on Jason’s running list of problems at camp. Annabeth is missing. Campers are still grieving, despite the Titan War ending almost six months ago. Hazel is trying to find her place and understand her powers, and Luke’s dying body is still haunting Jason’s drea—

“We’ll have to figure out how to tame that dragon,” Jason says. He sighs and clutches his wrist in an attempt to steady the trembling in his hand. “Annabeth would know what to do.”

Will flashes him a curious look, his gaze going from Jason’s face to hands. “You’re not doing too well with her being gone, are you?”

Truthfully, it’s the first time Jason’s been able to relax at camp since his birthday. But he doesn’t need to say that out loud.

“I—” Jason’s words stall in his throat. “Travis seemed to be struggling this morning. He may come by later.”

“Ah.” Will nods slowly, one golden eyebrow arched in the air, but thankfully doesn’t delve deeper. Instead, Will’s nose wrinkles and he shakes his head. “Knowing my luck, he’ll try to sneak some laxatives from the cabinet and piss Clarisse off again. I wish he’d just talk to someone instead of taking it out with stupid pranks.”

Travis probably _does_ need someone to talk to, but Jason doesn’t think he can muster words and be at the other end of the Stoll Brothers’ gaze at the same time.

“I wonder if Clovis could help him,” Will continues. He brushes his chin, eyes flickering thoughtfully. “With the way that kid sleeps, he’s probably the son of the God of Dreams or something.”

“That _is_ a thing,” Jason agrees. Despite himself, he can’t help his own exhaustion creeping at the back of his throat.

He doesn’t miss the way Will’s eyes dart towards him. “Do _you_ need a prescription?”

“For what?”

Again, Will takes a moment to scrutinize Jason until the latter demigod remembers how unapologetically sweaty his back is from his run. Will stares at him with the same delicate gaze that he gives a patient he’s treating on the battlefield, then dismisses whatever thought is in his mind. Instead, his lips curl into a wry smile. “For your dedication towards camp. You need a chill pill.”

Jason unknowingly lets out a sigh of relief. He smiles back and gestures towards the door. “Let me know if you need help, Will.”

“Please. I never need to _let_ you know.” Will’s eyes flicker with amusement once more as they part. “You’re here before I can even call your name.”

With a fond smile, Jason slowly backtracks towards his own cabin. Before he can stop himself, he decides to take the long way back to Cabin Eleven. His eyes fall to the two cabins at the arch of the campgrounds: Cabin One and Cabin Three.

Percy Jackson and Nico di Angelo’s faces suddenly flash in his brain, and he can’t help the feeling that nags him at the pit of his stomach. Thalia’s face flashes in his mind, too. Her choppy black hair and oily black eyes. They look nothing alike, other than their eyes. He can’t help but compare her ghostly pale skin and dark eyes to their Father.

Even with this Praetor Reyna missing, Jason thinks that the Roman demigods seem to be coping better post-war than the Greeks were. Jason doesn’t think he’s had a smile reach his eyes since before Luke betrayed him. Them. Thalia’s smile was so powerful that it practically knocked Jason off his feet the first time they met.

And then there was the way Nico di Angelo looked at him, like Jason was the most grating person on the planet.

(Admittedly, it was probably stupid of him to keep talking when the skies went dark. Jason is so used to being under the radar of Olympus and Bianca’s control of her emotions that he didn’t think before he spoke.)

He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears a giant _THUD_ come from the Zeus’s Cabin.

Jason knocks on the door carefully. He hears an exasperated, “ _Come in_ ,” and slowly peeks his head through the door.

Zeus’s Cabin is all marble columns and blindingly white walls. The floor gleams pristinely, rarely touched by demigods. Jason sucks in a breath, met with the familiar chandelier at the center of the room. It’s almost been a _year_ , he reminds himself. Yet coming into Bianca’s old cabin is still a struggle.

Hazel greets him on the other side of the room, her cinnamon hair reminiscent to a tornado twisted in a wild mess. She looks over to Jason with a sheepish smile and gestures to Jason’s least favorite thing about the cabin: the statue of Zeus.

“I was trying to move it again,” she admits. “I pushed it with some wind, but—”

“But the winds pushed back?” Jason finishes for her.

“Yeah.” Hazel’s expression flattens and she pushes hair out of her face. She arches an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”

“Just a feeling.”

She stares at him suspiciously like the first day. Much like Will Solace, she doesn’t pry Jason’s feelings. Instead, Hazel plops on her bed, defeated.

Like every day since Hazel’s woken up, Jason asks the same question. “How are you adjusting?”

Hazel blows a curl out of her face and tugs at the orange night shirt the camp had provided her. She gestures on the mattress beside her, and scoots over for Jason to sit down. “Okay, I think. The Demeter Cabin keeps asking me what it was like to be a tree.”

“What _was_ it like to be a tree?” Jason asks, amused.

“Cold. Lonely. Sometimes hot.” The corner of Hazel’s lips curls into a quaint smile and she threads her hands in her curls. “Sometimes I feel like I’m going to find another acorn in my hair.”

It’s the way she smiles that tugs at the edge of Jason’s heart. Her demeanor is soft, and her eyes exude with a sadness that’s familiar to Jason. He remembers nights just like these, coming to the Zeus’s Cabin and sitting across from another daughter of Zeus as she voiced her worries.

His heart really aches.

“It’s,” Hazel starts softly, “just hard to believe that one minute I was running away from Hera so I didn’t get killed and the next I’m waking up in a new century after a war. And finding out I’m supposed to be Hecate’s Champion. I’m not sure what to do with that information. What I’m meant for.”

Jason decides not to comment on the convenience of her waking up right after Rachel’s new Great Prophecy.

“Katie says she wants to pick me for Capture the Flag.”

“That’s _great_ , Hazel. You should do it.” Jason looks back to her encouragingly and notices the way her eyes glance back at him. “You’ll get to know a lot of the campers that way.”

“She also said you’re the reason Hermes Cabin has a longstanding history in winning. At least before this past summer.” Hazel crosses her legs over her mattress and looks back at him, one eyebrow in the air.

“I help Will in the medical bay now,” Jason explains.

She studies him, then shrugs. “Probably for the best. It’d be an unfair fight if the Chosen One was involved.”

It’d be terrifying, that’s for sure.

“How do you think Nico would do in Capture the Flag?”

Jason contemplates the question for a second. He thinks back to sun-kissed Italian skin, and blue eyes as cold as a bristling winter’s day. Nico di Angelo was lithe and wiry—much like his other sister—but the expression of disinterest was hard to misplace. It’s the same one Zeus gave Jason on his birthday.

Nico was able to darken the sky with just the pitch of his voice. Jason had just been too lost in his disbelief to notice and nearly got himself killed. His eyebrows knit together at the thought.

“Jason?” Hazel asks, which is when he realizes he didn’t answer her question.

“I think all three of them are pretty powerful,” he admits finally. “I mean—they’re like us.”

As sweet as Thalia was on him when they visited, Jason didn’t miss the way her smile faltered the moment he mentioned Bianca. Jackson’s chill demeanor also shifted, only a level less dark than Nico di Angelo’s. Percy Jackson being one level away from summoning his own storm was a warning for Jason not to mention it again.

“Sorry I didn’t end up staying over there,” Hazel suddenly says. She combs a hand through her hair again, evidently still worried at the prospect of acorns. “Ten years sounds like _so much time._ ”

“You have nothing to apologize about.” Truthfully, Jason doesn’t think he was supposed to take her there in the first place.

When Hazel awoke and needed help with controlling her powers, all eyes were on Jason again. Even Mr. D and Chiron. The Chosen One had already defeated Kronos, so helping calm the powers of a Daughter of Zeus should be a piece of cake. Especially after Bianca.

He just didn’t expect it to be so hard. He was hoping that a camp named after her father would offer guidance for Hazel—not a kick to the heart for him.

“Plus,” Hazel glances back over to him, her eyes glittering like a sunrise. “You seem like you need help around here. That feels like something I need to do.”

“Oh—thanks.” Jason blinks at her words. He sighs tiredly, despite the new day, and leans against the mattress. “You should get the chance to explore yourself, though. Don’t worry about me.”

He can’t help but scan the small corner of the room and notice some things are missing. With Zeus’s children being so rare after the Oath, there was only one bed in the cabin. That hadn’t changed after Bianca’s death. What _has_ changed are the many photos that once hung against the walls are now gone. Jason assumes they’re all stacked under Bianca’s old green hat, which sits on a tiny shelf across from the bed.

“Can we go back and visit today?” Hazel asks, when she notices him staring at the wrinkly green hat for too long. “I want to see him again.”

Seeing Nico di Angelo again is the exact opposite of what Jason wants to do. “Sure—just let me get changed. Will told me no one came in last night needing help.”

He notices the way Hazel stares at him.

“What?” Jason asks.

“Nothing.” Hazel shakes her and smiles in approval. “Just thinking about how awesome you are and do so much for the camp.”

*

Thalia is every bit as happy to see him as the first time. She drops her roulette of staples when they come through the office door, doing everything in her power not to pull Jason with another hug. Percy greets them pensively, clearly still on the fence after Jason’s slip up.

Nico glares at him disdainfully, his scowl only growing as Thalia moves around the round desk. It only softens when he notices Hazel behind Jason.

“You came back,” Thalia says. Jason isn’t sure what they were talking about before his arrival—but he did catch the sad look on her face before he opened the door wide. She smiles at him firmly, the wicked glimmer of a child of Pluto replaced with warmth.

“Yeah.” Jason smiles back, his heart tightening in his chest. Every second he spends looking at her feels so surreal, like she’ll fade out of existence in any moment. Thalia touching his hand feels very real, and the way she smiles at him is infectious.

He casts a glance in Hazel’s direction and notices two children of the King of the Gods quietly murmuring to one another. Nico di Angelo’s tone is steady and smooth. He almost even smiles when Hazel says something.

“So what brings you here?” Percy says, breaking up the overwhelming amount of emotions that swell in the pit of Jason’s stomach.

Thankfully, Hazel answers. She glances at them freely, evidently not considered as much of a nuisance as Jason is. “I was hoping I could get to know my brother. And maybe get a few pointers on my powers?”

Both Thalia and Percy glance towards Nico. For a moment, Nico di Angelo’s expression halts. He looks conflicted, eyes flickering with reluctance before he briefly shoots an irritated look towards Jason. Jason smiles back and only hopes that di Angelo will honor their promise from weeks ago. 

“Of course,” Nico says, despite the ruffled tone. His eyes flit back to Jason once more, expression wry. “Care for a demonstration, ambassador?”

*

“What kind of music do you like?” Thalia asks him.

They set up a small sight at the Fields of Mars, which prove to be vaster than anything back at Camp Halfblood. Jason scans the arena and can’t help the cold chills running up his spine. He sees broken catapults and discarded weapons, like a _real_ battlefield. It’s almost too much for him. He presses his hands against his knees.

“Oh,” Jason says, absentmindedly. “I don’t listen to a lot of music. So the Jonas Brothers, I guess?”

“ _What_?” Thalia cries, and suddenly she’s in his face. She looks absolutely devastated. “You’re _shitting_ me. Not Led Zeppelin? Bullet for My Valentine? You’re listening to the _Jonas Brothers_?”

Jason stares back at her, startled. He suddenly can’t help but wonder if all the music Grover’s given him over the years is actually supposed to be considered _bad._ He cocks his head when Percy busts into laughter beside him.

“I think Thalia’s just shocked that you can dress like _that_ ,” the Son of Neptune says, gesturing to Jason’s dark leather jacket and joggers, “and listen to pop tunes.”

“ _Seriously_ ,” Thalia continues, her voice positively hysterical. ‘You look like a total _badass_!”

“Thank you?” Jason replies, confused. He doesn’t miss the way that Percy flashes another grin at him, absolutely amused.

Off in the distance, he watches as Hazel and Nico chatter amongst themselves. Hazel nods emphatically, her gaze never leaving the son of Jupiter as he explains something to her. Wind brushes against Nico di Angelo, the fringe of his hair fluttering against the gales. His shoulders rise, stature firm.

And, slowly, Jason watches as Nico takes a step into the air, looking as angelic as his namesake. Jason pulls his hands away from his lap, entranced by the gentle gusts that covet the Son of Jupiter. Nico’s expression doesn’t change. The gesture of lifting himself off the ground looks as natural as breathing.

“Wish I could fly,” Percy grumbles under his breath.

“Hard pass.” Thalia shivers.

Jason thinks the awe he’s feeling is probably visible on Hazel’s face. Hazel presses her hands to her mouth, shocked by her flying brother. On the other hand, Nico is smiling.

“What about you, baby brother?” Thalia asks candidly. She brushes a hand his shoulder, a thumb rubbing the leather of his jacket. “Wish you could fly?”

It takes a moment for Jason’s thoughts to catch up to his mouth. It’s been a long time since he’s seen a child of Zeus in the air. He exhales softly and a warm smile curls against his lips. “He looks amazing.”

It’s hard _not_ to notice Thalia and Percy exchange looks from his words. Jason smacks himself mentally and clears his throat.

“You know what Reyna would do if she were here?” Percy suddenly says, thankfully putting Jason’s comment aside.

Thalia sighs, her entire composure immediately slacking. “Try to convince him to teach sword training.”

“Why wouldn’t he teach sword training?” Jason turns his head quizzically to the demigods, and notes their eyes never leave Nico. He agrees that it’s a feat—Nico di Angelo clearly has unique precision when it comes to summoning the winds.

He watches as Hazel tries the same steps. Gusts brush against her hair. She takes the same pose as Nico, her shoulders mimicking his width and—doesn’t ascend. Hazel presses one foot into the ground and simply hops instead. She stumbles. Nico reaches out to catch her before she can fall on her face.

The neutral look on his face diminishes, his expression contorting with unease.

“That’s why,” Percy explains. Suddenly he’s on his feet and walking towards the Zeus siblings only yards away.

Jason cocks his head back to Thalia, confused. Thalia smiles back sheepishly.

“Nico is _beyond_ talented when it comes to being a Child of Jupiter,” she explains. “But he’s not a big people person. I think he’s afraid that no one will understand him if he speaks up. Or in this case—understand how he explains things.”

They watch as Percy greets the duo, and Nico’s shoulders sag with relief.

“He’s shy,” Jason speculates, but his expression betrays him.

“That’s a word for it.” Thalia’s throat rivets with a chuckle and she leans back in her seat.

In the distance, Percy’s stature and speech are easier than Nico. He smiles warmly at Hazel, moving his hands in a different way that Nico did. Jason doesn’t miss how Nico seems to naturally lean into Percy’s presence, those blue eyes glued to every single one of the Son of Neptune’s words.

“He may seem rough around the edges, but you won’t meet a sweeter kid,” Thalia reassures. She casts a glance in Jason’s direction, suddenly reluctant, and continues. “It took him a while to come out of his shell after losing Bianca. That’s why he’s taking Reyna’s disappearance so hard.”

“What was Reyna like?” Jason quickly corrects himself when he notices Thalia’s eyebrows knit together. “I mean—what _is_ Reyna like?”

The depths of Thalia’s eyes seem to dim. Her shoulders heave, and a sad smile curls against her lips. “She’s perfect.”

The gravity of her words makes goosebumps rise over Jason’s arms.

Thalia crosses her arms together and fondly shakes her head. A sigh escapes her lips. “I brought Nico to camp and Percy and I got him out of his shell. Reyna came to camp not long after that, and he took her under his wing. I think he saw it as paying the goodwill forward.”

It takes a moment for Jason to process the words, but he does. He stares at the Son of Jupiter—the relaxed smile directed at Hazel, and the wry irritation aimed towards some bad joke Percy made. He can’t help but smile.

“It sounds like he’s doing okay,” he remarks.

“I hope so,” Thalia agrees. She falls silent again—and it takes Jason a moment to realize she’s staring at _him_. Thalia’s eyes still bubble wistfully—of a time far behind the both of them. “I used to wonder what you would’ve been like when I still thought you were dead. If you would’ve been more like Nico or more like me _._ ”

Jason doesn’t miss the doubt in her voice as Thalia gestures to herself. “You say _you_ like that would’ve been a bad thing.”

She stares back at him tiredly, her smile suddenly wavering. It’s nothing like how sure she was of herself the first time they met. Thalia waves a hand across the dirt, and suddenly a sapphire appears at her feet. Jason can’t help but tense as she picks it up. 

“I’m all of the worst qualities about our mom. Selfish. Proud. Hardheaded.” Thalia shakes her head, her pale skin suddenly darkening grimly. “Maybe that’s why we argued all of the time. My powers represent everything that she _killed_ herself trying to get while she was in Hollywood. She was softer with you. Like she was trying to reconcile everything about her life before she died.”

His breath hitches in his throat, hands suddenly trembling. Jason watches as Thalia toys with the gem between her fingers almost instinctively.

“It’s good that you never got to see her while she was harsh,” she continues quietly. “Being able to manipulate precious metals and cursed gemstones are advantageous in the Legion. No one loves glory and death more than the Romans.”

Another sigh leaves Thalia’s throat and she shakes her head.

“I would still be in the pits without Reyna and them. _Especially_ without them.” Thalia gestures to her two roman demigods, the amusement brimming in her voice. “Percy drives me crazy, but I don’t think we would’ve gotten through to Nico without each other. Who knows where Nico would’ve ended up if no one was there to catch him.”

Probably scared and alone, trying to find a sense of purpose while avoiding a prophecy. Jason’s breath finally drops as he watches Thalia pocket the sapphire.

“I,” Thalia says softly, her voice still somehow able to conjure more misery, “ _really_ thought that Dad intended to bring you to this camp when you were old enough. If I knew how bad Mom had gotten after I left, I would have taken you with me.”

Jason’s heart clenches. His eyebrows push together and he reaches over to place a hand over hers. He has to do a double take—Thalia’s hands are as cold as his are. “I’m here now.”

“Yeah.” Thalia sniffles and curls her own hand around his. Despite all of the talk about _badassery_ and screamo bands, Thalia’s look is undeniably soft. “I hope you’re not like me. It’d mean you’re not prone to doing anything _stupid._ ”

Jason’s demeanor falters. He suddenly remembers the circumstances that brought him to Camp Jupiter: Hades trying to reward him when Zeus refused to. But Hazel and he would be going back to Camp Halfblood tonight, muttering not a word about their New Roman siblings. He never should have brought Hazel to this camp—even if it _felt_ like a good idea at the time.

Off in the distance, he watches as Percy’s rambling pays off. Dust skims off the ground as wind swirls around Hazel. She steady lifts off the sky, her hair fluttering with her. Percy and Nico tether her in either hand. Nico di Angelo smiles, his face lit with nothing but pride.

*

Before they make their way back home, Thalia insists on treating them to sushi again. Jason wonders if it’s a California thing. As it turns out, Percy is a wonderful mentor, filling in the gaps in Nico’s speech when the younger demigod doesn’t make sense. Hazel seems surer of herself, even if she can only lift just a few inches off the ground.

The dynamic of all three of them together is strange. Nico barely looks up from his food while Percy and Thalia fill in the conversation between them. Jason doesn’t find rest from their earlier conversation as Thalia starts listing off all of the death metal bands that she knows. Jason isn’t sure if she’s listing bands or all the synonyms to the word _Death._

(Apparently, Death was a metal band that was together between 1983 and 2001. Jason’s head spins.)

Percy pipes in once in a while, either rolling his eyes or offering his own suggestions. They both bicker about the quality of music, which somehow results in throwing chopsticks at each other. Nico grabs both demigods by the wrist and slams their fists into the table to shut them up.

All the while, Hazel and Jason’s eyes dart between the pair like a ping pong set.

“So,” Hazel says slowly, her eyebrows furrowing together. “Nico, what do you listen to?”

Nico looks back at her, the look of irritation on his face replaced with a light flush against his cheeks. “Technopop.”

Hazel’s eyebrows knit together and her eyes fall blank. “I have no idea what that is.”

“Art,” Nico supplies. He waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about—”

“Can you show me later?” Hazel asks, flustered. “Must be one of those modern things I don’t know about yet.”

Jason watches as Nico’s demeanor shift, taken aback by the request. He notices as both Thalia and Percy grin, not the least bit upset that the younger demigod put an end to their shenanigans.

“Next time,” Nico promises. He doesn’t sound nearly as irritated as he did when Jason asked him to take Hazel under his wing weeks ago.

The topic eventually reels back to Hazel learning how to fly. She burns as bright as Nico did as the trio compliments her. Jason doesn’t blame them for being proud. He squeezes her shoulder gently and smiles.

“You’re doing amazing, Hazel,” Jason promises.

Hazel’s cheeks burn even redder and her smile widens. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Oh boy. Jason turns his head and notices how he’s yet again at the end of one of Nico di Angelo’s withering looks. He thinks by now that he could make a scrapbook out of the many times Nico has scowled at him between this meeting and their last.

Thalia stares at them with amusement. She gestures between the daughter of Zeus and son of Hades. “So this is a thing.”

“Oh, no.” Jason doesn’t even get the chance to answer. Hazel places a hand platonically over Jason’s own, ready to laugh. “Jason’s a role model back where we’re from. He’s an inspiration to a lot of demigods.”

Jason can’t help but feel his demeanor shift on his face. Hazel is choosing her words carefully this time.

“Really?” That piques Thalia’s interest, light and pride in her eyes that makes Jason a little more uneasy. “What’d you do, baby brother?”

“I…ahem.” Jason clears his throat, his discomfort refusing to go away. “I slayed Kronos.”

All three demigods look back at him, stunned. (Well, two. Nico favors rolling his eyes every time Jason opens his mouth.)

“You slayed _the_ Kronos? King of the Titans?! Oh my _gods_ , Jason!” Thalia vibrates in her seat, her hands slamming against the table. Soy sauce jumps out of bowls and her eyes glitter. “You _are_ a badass! Dad must be so _proud_ of you!”

“Nico slayed Krios and Jupiter offered him immortality and a chance to be a god.” Percy jabs a thumb at Nico, mirth teeming in his voice.

Jason takes in the information, eyes wide as he looks over to the indifferent Son of Jupiter. “Really?”

Nico looks back at him, eternally indifferent towards Jason’s presence. He nods.

“And you turned him down?” Jason arches an eyebrow. He supposes the curiosity in his voice is the same as when he was trying to figure out why Nico di Angelo wasn’t a praetor.

“The opportunity to spend the rest of my life in as an unaging fifteen-year-old while watching all of my friends die around me didn’t seem that appealing.” Nico snorts. Jason can’t help but notice that he’s coped with the cruelty of the war far better than many of the campers back at Halfblood. “Immortality loses its charm after being stuck in a hotel for nearly a century.”

Thalia and Percy shake their heads with amusement. It’s not the first time they’ve heard his ministrations, apparently.

“So what did he give you, ambassador?” Nico asks wryly. He arches an eyebrow. “Surely a _royal_ such as yourself received a bountiful reward for your civil duty in killing my father’s _worst enemy._ ”

Jason stares back at him, wearily charmed. The irritation in Nico’s voice lets him know that they’re never going to see eye-to-eye. “The door.”

Thalia and Percy’s smiles fade. To Jason’s surprise, Nico’s own interest seems piqued. Blue eyes stare back at him, suddenly studying every bit of Jason until the latter demigod feels uncomfortable.

To his second surprise, Percy’s gaze suddenly narrows at him. It’s much less pensive than before—even concerned. “You okay, man?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jason’s own eyebrows knit together, confused.

“Jason’s helped others overcome trauma from the war.” Hazel squeezes his shoulder gently. “He’s been a pillar for all of us.”

Unfortunately, Jason doesn’t think any of them want to drop the subject. He’s not sure what look is on his face, but he knows what he _feels_ , and it’s nerve-wracking to have any part of him exposed.

Nico raises his cup of Pepsi. “To crappy gods.”

Again, Jason’s not sure what to do with the look that Nico di Angelo gives him. There’s begrudging pity in those eyes. Percy and Thalia share contemplative expressions, but Jason doesn’t think he knows them well enough to know what they’re supposed to mean.

Luckily, Hazel laughs. She picks up her own glass and nudges Jason to do the same.

They all clank glasses, and the conversation is strategically light after that.

“To crappy gods.”

*

Thalia gives him the most miserable look when they say they have to leave later that afternoon. Jason promises they’ll be back soon. He doesn’t think he could push her out of his life now that he has her.

When they get back to Camp Halfblood, they’re met with the sight of Gleeson Hedge and two new demigods.

Jason wants to _die_ when they introduce themselves.

Piper McLean and Reyna Ramirez-Arellano.

*

Thalia’s description about Reyna echoes in Jason’s mind every time he has to look at her. _She’s perfect._

Reyna is calm, cool, and calculated, even without her memories. There’s a wrinkle that appears between her eyebrows every time she looks at Jason with hazy eyes and tries to understand the situation around them. Her voice is as glossy as any noblewoman. She tells everyone she’s the daughter of the war goddess.

_“_ Athena,” someone says around the campfire.

_“_ No _._ ” Then the wrinkle appears in her brow again, and Reyna doesn’t hesitate to correct them. The SPQR tattoo on her forearm, decorated with four tick marks, looks like it could’ve been earned yesterday. A sword and a torch decorate her arm, unlike the glyph on Thalia’s, and unlike the eagle on Nico di Angelo’s. Reyna is confused about everything else going on around her, her hand wrapped tightly around Piper McLean’s like life support, but her voice is steady about her lineage. “Bellona _.”_

All eyes turn to Jason, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. Surely, the great hero could offer guidance. He looks over to Chiron, who is paler than death at the sight of this Roman demigod, and then to Mr. D, who is more fixated about turning his diet coke to wine. Looks over to Hazel, who only has concern in her eyes.

_I hope you’re not like me_ , Thalia’s voice echoes again. _It’d mean you’re not prone to doing anything **stupid**._

“We don’t have a Bellona Cabin,” Jason says to her apologetically. “But we’ll offer you everything that you need at the Cabin Eleven.”

She stares at him and absorbs the weight of his words, but Jason can tell she’s suspicious. Reyna is so observant and calm that Jason would have never guessed that she hung out with a chaotic bunch like Percy Jackson and his sister. He can absolutely believe that Nico di Angelo took her under his wing, based on the way she looks at him.

Hazel does the same thing as her brother, taking the girls under her wing when Jason seems too stunned to show them around. She helps Piper pick out a weapon from the tool closet, and Reyna seems to take comfort in the fact that she’s a daughter of Zeus. It’s only when Hazel also mentions that Jason is a son of Hades that Reyna offers him warmth.

Reyna hasn’t the slightest clue about her past but having a daughter of Zeus and a son of Hades close is _comforting_ to her.

When Chiron comes to from his stupor, he tells Reyna that she must prepare for a quest. Pick two companions. Reyna picks Piper with no hesitation, their hands interlaced together. They’re tied by the memories of a fake friendship—maybe something more, from the pained look on Piper McLean’s face. Reyna is _detached_ from her old life. She looks between Hazel and he, conflicted by whom to choose next. She _stares_ into Jason’s eyes, the gaze so intense that he gets goosebumps again.

Instead, Jason presses a trembling hand on Hazel’s back and nudges her encouragingly.

“I think this is what you were meant to do,” Jason tells her. He smiles her way, despite his own dread.

Hazel looks back at him like he’s given her the world.

He thinks back to the new prophecy that Rachel had spewed at the end of his sixteenth birthday. When Jason was finishing up lighting the last funeral pyre, and all eyes were on him. When he _assured_ them that this new great prophecy probably wouldn’t happen for a long time.

_Seven halfbloods shall answer the call._ He knows he sees three of them around the campfire. But—

His hands quake with the memory of Luke’s blood at the palm of his hands, red smearing the flesh of his fingers, and blood caked on his face that wasn’t his own. The reminder of a knife and his own sword discarded at his feet. The thought of Annabeth screaming and sobbing in his ears (and he has a moment of panic for a moment—if Reyna is _here_ , could Annabeth be _there_?)

—he absolutely does _not_ want to be one of the remaining four.

*

“So you saved the world, but you still have don’t have your own cabin?” Reyna asks him later that night when they settle in. The Camp Halfblood shirt looks natural against her caramel skin in contrast to the tattoo on her arm.

Jason smiles at her tiredly and presents the duffle bag of preparations for the daughter of Bellona’s quest. “Did Hazel tell you?”

“She did,” Reyna said. Her two automaton dogs sleep at her feet. Aurum and Argentum were their names. Jason’s heart trembled when she told them they could sniff out lies. The way Reyna stares at him from the cabin bed lets him know that Reyna expected nothing less than the truth from those around her. “But I only have to look at you to know that you’ve done great things.”

He shoves his shaking hands in his pockets and shrugs. He gestures out the window. “Olympus has twelve gods, so we have twelve cabins.”

“A handful of those cabins don’t even hold campers,” Reyna protests. “The cabins for Juno, Diana, and Neptune.”

“The last Great Prophecy was supposed to apply to any children of the Big Three,” Jason explains. His mind suddenly flutters back to Percy—the sense of confidence and the aura of power that radiated from New Rome’s Son of Neptune. All of those qualities were wrapped in a steady package behind such a relaxed smile. He thinks of Diana—of _Artemis_ —and pushes the bitter feeling in the back of his mind.

“And they couldn’t reward you with a cabin?” Reyna’s gaze narrows at him, unconvinced.

Jason’s not sure what to say. The situation is out of his hands, and he’s accepted that the Fates controlled how his life would play out a long time ago. “I got a cupcake from Hades.”

On the morning of his sixteenth birthday, after he was called to Olympus in his blood-soaked orange t-shirt and stained celestial bronze armor, Zeus had given him a disinterested look, still bitter over Bianca’s death from months earlier. He barely uttered a word to Jason, only offering a quick congratulations before turning his sight elsewhere.

(Jason almost doesn’t blame him for still grieving Bianca. He has a hard time himself.)

Hades had taken pity on Jason and brought him down to the Underworld.

He assured Jason that he was proud, despite the grim, sad look on the God of the Dead’s face. Hades looked at Jason’s own trembling hands—at Luke’s blood caked on his face and the red of Jason’s own fallen comrades and childhood friends at his armor, and the god’s own face betrayed the words that he uttered. Neither the King of the Underworld or his son were happy on that sixteenth birthday.

Jason thinks that being led to Camp Jupiter is supposed to be a reward for slaying Kronos. No one would even notice that he knew—the gods hardly cared what Hades did, so long as he remained underground and behaved. Just like how they didn’t notice Hades and his son slip out of Olympus after the one begrudging congratulations from his youngest brother.

Hades wasn’t the most emotional god, but he tried. He sent Jason back to Camp Halfblood with that cupcake and his blessing. Jason wonders if Hades considered that he couldn’t even eat it, unless he wanted to be stuck in the Underworld.

But, Jason mused when he set it on the trunk of his clothing chest that night, being stuck in the Underworld wouldn’t be bad, either.

It meant Jason could’ve avoided overseeing the funeral pyres as they mourned the loss of all of the heroes that gave their lives in the name of slaying Kronos. He could’ve avoided going back to the Hermes’s Cabin and trying to cope with the fact that he killed their old head counsellor, and he could’ve avoided having to figuring out how he and Annabeth were going to move forward from what happened.

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen with a bunch of traumatized demigods the day after his birthday. The Apollo’s Cabin and med bay were already overwhelmed with wounded soldiers. The pyres needed to be set _just right_ and the deaths needed to be handled graciously so their fallen comrades could make it down to the Underworld in peace.

So, he blew out the candle on his cupcake, offered it as a blessing to Persephone and Hades instead, and began to work.

Hades promised that every fallen camper would be treated fairly and delicately after their arrival in the Underworld, and Jason hoped that meant many would end up in Elysium. He especially hoped that meant Luke’s spirit would end up in Elysium, even if the darkness in his father’s eyes made it clear that it was the opposite of what should happen.

So long as he doesn’t have to fight in another war— _so long as he didn’t have to look at the bloodied bodies of all the campers he grew up with in his fourteen years of camp—_ he thinks he’ll find peace with that.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Reyna is still staring at him. She reaches out and places a hand over his. Despite the missing memories, Jason can tell that she’s every bit as sure of herself as any of the other Roman demigods that he saw earlier today.

Reyna tilts her head and stares at him inquisitively. “I don’t mean to pry. I just think people should notice you.”

Jason can’t help but laugh at that, even if it comes out uneasily. “I don’t know if it was clear, but I think people notice my accomplishments plenty.”

The way all of the campers look at him is haunting. The way Chiron, their camp director, and Mr. D, a _literal god_ notices him, is haunting.

“No,” Reyna corrects. She squeezes her hand, and it reminds Jason faintly of Thalia. “I hope people notice _you_.”

Oh.

“Sorry.” She retracts her hand for a moment, her expression growing sheepish as she touches a hand to her face. “I know we just met. But I look into your _eyes_ and for some reason they feel so _familiar_ to me.”

Thalia and he looked nothing alike, from head-to-toe. Except for the eyes that they received from their father. He thinks back to what she said about inhabiting all of their mom’s worst qualities. Jason thinks that he represents the other half of his mom once she hit rock bottom in her career: guilty, remorseful, and yearning to live a different life than the path that she put herself on.

His hand flies to his jean pocket, where his mother’s own cursed ring rests.

“I hope you find the answers you’re seeking on your quest,” Jason says instead. “I’m sure there are a lot of people that are missing you right now.”

“You’re sure,” Reyna says. It’s not a question. She arches an eyebrow once again, and the look is unnerving.

“I’m sure,” Jason repeats. “Get some rest, Reyna. You have a long trip ahead of you tomorrow.”

Reyna gives him one more doubtful look—something so similar to Nico di Angelo that it chills Jason—and finally relents. “Okay.”

Jason doesn’t doubt that she’s every bit of _perfect_ as Thalia makes her out to be.

*

Before their departure the next morning, Hazel surprises him with a big hug. “Thanks for trusting me to on this quest.”

Jason doesn’t want to admit the amount of relief he feels that he’s not the one going. He hugs her back. “You’re going to do _great_ , Hazel. Nico’s going to be so proud of you.”

At the mention of her brother, Hazel’s smile widens. “You sure you don’t want to go?”

Definitely sure. “Someone has to figure out what to do with the dragon in the woods.”

*

Days pass while they wait for Reyna and her companions to return. After running his usual laps around Camp Halfblood and touching base with Will, Jason decides to take his additional free day to head back to New Rome. He needs to calm his thoughts after the troubling realization that this next Great Prophecy is _already_ happening. Needs to push his grief behind him.

Despite the feeling in his gut telling him not to do it, he needs to figure out if Reyna being at Camp Halfblood means that Annabeth is at Camp Jupiter. Someone really _did_ need to calm the dragon in the woods, and Jason doesn’t think he’s as wise as Annabeth would be about the situation.

Plus—maybe an amnesiac Annabeth might hate him less.

He thinks back to how Reyna wrinkled her nose at being called a daughter of Athena, and how she insisted that children of Minerva would most likely be into crafting instead. The existence of the Athena Cabin altogether seemed to put Reyna ill at ease.

So, despite the urge to go visit his sister, Jason decides to visit the Forum first. It’s another one of the other well-established sights at New Rome that Jason doesn’t think Camp Halfblood could ever have. He sees demigods—old and young—going from booth to booth and bartering for goods.

“You’re new here,” he hears a voice say.

Jason turns around and his met with the sight of a short, skinny latino demigod on the other side of a weapons booth. He’s startled. “ _Sammy_?”

The latino demigod blinks at him in surprise, his hand tapping quickly on the wooden table. He grins mischievously and waves at the assortment of armory and weapons around and above his head. “Sorry John Travolta, not a seller of _sammies._ Weapons, though? I got you covered.”

“I don’t fight,” Jason says. The words flow out of his mouth before he can help himself. He takes a step towards the weapons booth, imperial gold practically blinding him as he steps close. As he stands closer to the demigod, his shock only grows.

Whoever this demigod is looks like an exact clone of the ghost he brought Hazel to meet only months ago. Sammy Valdez.

“Sorry,” Jason breathes, unable to hide his stupor. “You look like a friend of a friend of mine.”

His wording is so stupid that he can feel the Sammy-lookalike’s confusion. Not Sammy smirks, his eyes glittering like a mad genius, and he extends a hand. “Leo Valdez, inventor extraordinaire. Son of Vulcan. New Rome’s most eligible bachelor and resident annoyance.”

His earnestness vibrates with a different energy than the _other_ demigods that Jason has met so far. He can’t help but laugh—which makes Leo’s smile grow even wider.

“I take it back. You’re _way_ too soft to be like John Travolta,” Leo says. He waves his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure out a new nickname for you, Mister…?”

“Jason Grace.”

“Grace. I can work with that.”

Jason extends his own hand to meet the other demigod’s, and notices something peculiar about Leo’s arm. “Oh—you’re not in the legion.”

He picks up on the way Leo’s smile falters just the tiniest inch, and how Leo bows his head just slightly. Leo taps his other hand against the wooden table and shrugs. His bare forearm raises in the air as well, as if saying, _what can you do?_ “The Legion’s not the only way to earn an honest living in New Rome. Give me a workbench and some metal and I can scrape by. Besides—you see how _handsome_ this face is? It’s not meant for war.”

Jason can’t help but be amused again. He looks around the booth curiously and notices the delicate amount of care that went into each piece of armor. Jason doesn’t fight anymore, but he knows craftsmanship worthy of any Hephaestus when he sees it. After all, it’s not like he fought in the war _armorless._

“These look really beautiful, Leo.” Jason enters the booth and looks at the delicate engravings on the armor. From the corner of his eye, he catches Leo batting at an elbow, flustered.

It amazes Jason all of the different occupations that New Rome offers. Back at Halfblood, all he’s heard is how lucky demigods are if they survive into adulthood. Jason doesn’t know any who have—except for Luke, before the son of Hermes died.

Maybe New Rome would’ve offered more structure and guidance for Luke, if he was a Son of Mercury instead.

Jason pushes the thought in the back of his mind in favor of looking back at Leo Valdez. For some reason, he swears he sees smoke coming out of Leo’s hair.

A thought occurs to Jason. A _structured_ and _guided_ approach is _exactly_ what the dragon at Camp Halfblood needs.

“Leo,” Jason finds himself saying suddenly. “How would you feel about going somewhere with me?”

(In retrospect, he never said it was a _smart_ thought.)

*

“You know, when you said _go somewhere_ , I thought you meant out for coffee. Or like, leather jacket shopping.” Leo lets Jason pull him out of the shadows and into the forest.

“Do you _want_ a leather jacket?” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together and he peers back to the shorter demigod. Notices as Leo stares back at him, deadpanned. Suddenly he feels bad for dragging the guy out to the other side of the country.

“Where are we?” Leo gestures to the vast expanse of forest, and Jason makes the vehement mental note to make sure they steer clear of Camp Halfblood. Bringing Hazel to Camp Jupiter probably already broke some rules. Bringing Leo Valdez to Camp Halfblood probably breaks more rules.

(He thinks back to his father’s tepid words: no one notices Hades’s son lurking around in the shadows. Even if Jason’s anxiety is spiking because of it.)

“Somewhere close to where I live,” Jason says, hoping the details are vague enough. “There’s this dragon—”

“ _Hold up_ —” Leo raises a hand in the air, literally cutting Jason off with a palm to the taller demigod’s face. “ _Dragon_?”

Right. Jason smacks himself internally—with everything going on between Annabeth being missing and Hazel’s arrival, he’s developed a poor habit of skimming over details. “It’s this mechanical dragon that’s been wreaking havoc for campers.”

He explains the story as discreetly as he can without giving too much away. After another son of Hepahestus—a son of _Vulcan_ —died, a mechanical dragon got loose in the forest near Jason’s home. Fellow children of Vulcan tried to calm it down, only return home injured and unable to tame beast. Burned from the dragon’s fire.

Once he gets to the last part of his explanation, he notices Leo’s calm expression morph in horror. Jason _really_ feels like an ass.

“Look,” Jason says quickly, “I can take you home if you—”

“No, no. A mechanical dragon. Cool.” Leo pats his chest, like he’s trying to calm himself down, and smushes his face between his hands. “Alright, Danny Phantom. I’ve fixed the OS on Aurum and Argentum before. Maybe this won’t be so bad.”

Jason decides not to comment on the fact that despite Leo not being part of the Legion, he’s awfully familiar with the praetor’s pets.

“But—” Leo jabs a finger in his direction. “You _for sure_ owe me coffee after this.”

From how jittery Leo is, Jason’s not even sure the Son of Vulcan _needs_ more coffee. Jason smiles at him, noticing the hopeful look in the other demigod’s face. “Deal.”

“I’m not a warrior though,” Leo’s eyes dart elsewhere but Jason’s face, evidently self-conscious of this fact. He’s different from the other children of Hephaestus that Jason has met—loud, brash and obnoxious. But Leo still seems conscientious of his short stature, his hands twiddling with every nook and loop of his clothes like it’s supposed to calm him down.

“I don’t think we need a warrior,” Jason reassures. “I think this problem needs an inventor.”

Leo stares at him, taken aback. Then grins.

They find the dragon in no time, following a pathway of scorched trees and abandoned homes. Jason feels a pang of guilt in his chest, watching the remainder of a forgotten forest around him. He was hoping everything would return back to normal after the war—but Beckendorf’s death just proves there are still many unresolved issues.

The dragon lets out a long, rattling roar that shakes the entirety of Halfblood Hill. Jason’s gotten used to hearing it in the past few months.

“I’ll protect you if something bad happens,” he reassures.

To his surprise, Leo doesn’t seem the slightest bit scared. Leo looks back at the dragon in fascination, then cocks his head back to Jason when a thought occurs to him. “I thought you said you didn’t fight.”

“Protecting doesn’t always involve fighting,” Jason rebuts gently. He grabs Leo’s shoulder and gestures to the shadows at their feet. “We’ll shadowtravel out of here if things get too intense.”

“Shadowtravel. Right.” Leo gives him the same look that Nico di Angelo did weeks ago, when Jason appeared at the Temple of Jupiter. Sometimes he forgets it’s unnerving for other demigods. The sound of Leo popping his fingers snaps Jason out of his thoughts. “ _Alright_ , let’s charm a dragon.”

The fight isn’t much of a fight. Leo sprints across the expanse of trees. Despite all of his claim that he isn’t a warrior, Jason sees the natural agility of a demigod. Leo’s reflexes are top notch, ducking and weaving out of the way as the dragon chases after him. (At first, Jason’s concerned that the dragon has made Leo its target—but the amount of witty insults and _NUT FOR BRAINS_ that Leo shouts probably would make him angry, too.)

Leo could join the Legion and fight if he wanted to. But Jason supposes he could fight, too, if he needed to.

The dragon slams a claw into the ground, comically causing Leo to hop in the air. Jason’s breath catches in his throat as he watches, ready to jump in and shadowtravel both of them away. The mechanical dragon unhinges its jaw—and spews raging hot fire directly in Leo’s face.

“ _LEO!”_

Once the smoke clears, he sees Leo standing there, completely unscathed.

Leo looks back at him with chocolate brown eyes that are suddenly filled with fear.

In all of his years at camp, Jason has _never_ met a child of Hephaestus that was actually _fireproof._ Another thought occurs to him in his stupor. Leo looks more scared of Jason’s reaction than he does of the dragon.

On cue, the dragon stops snarling. The mechanical rattling coming from his voice box suddenly fades and is replaced with an off-tune hum.

“Oh,” Leo says, like the one word will make Jason forget what happened moments ago. “Something doesn’t sound right, big guy. You mind if I take a look?”

The dragon stares back at him, one robotic eye blinking before the other. It faintly reminds Jason of a _real_ dragon, from all of its organic movements. Leo sounds even more gentle talking to the dragon than he did before, when they met.

It bows his head, and Leo climbs on top. All Jason can hear is the sound of a panel opening and the occasional tinkering.

At first, there’s silence. But Jason can tell the entire predicament (or more specifically, the _predicament with fire_ and Jason _being there_ ) is unpleasant for Leo Valdez.

“You’re fireproof,” Jason says, softly.

“I am,” Leo says back. He’s a lot quieter than before.

“I know a _lot_ of Hephaestus kids that would _kill_ to be gifted with fire.”

“Yeah?” Leo snorts, his voice suddenly bitter. “Well, fire _kills_ , hermano. They’re best without it.”

There’s hate in his voice. Anguish. Jason knows a demigod with survivor’s guilt when he sees one. He sees it in himself every morning in the mirror before his run. Jason walks closer to the Son of Vulcan, noting the red fluster in Leo’s cheeks and the _literal smoke_ fuming out of his ears. A pang of guilt shoots through Jason, worse than before.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason asks gently. “I think I owe you that much for dragging you out here.”

Leo casts a glance down towards him, wary. To Jason’s shock, Leo’s shoulders sag and he sighs. “Okay—but this guy’s missing a disk. That’s why he’s been acting so strange. We’ll need to find a replacement.”

To both of their surprises, the dragon coos sweetly under Leo, and points a claw in a direction unfamiliar to Jason.

They walk, and Leo talks. He tells Jason about how he hates being able to use fire. How he used to live in Texas with his mom, and how the gift has brought him nothing but grief. His old babysitter used to put him in the fire place and fascinated by his immunity, and his mom would come home mortified. This babysitter was riveted by his _fate_ , but also tried to kill him. When Leo tried to defend himself, he burned down his mother’s workshop and killed her instead.

It's why he doesn’t fight, he explains. Children of Vulcan are heralded by the tales of their father and fire. Leo would rather forget the ability exists. Somehow after running from foster home to foster home, Lupa tried to persuade him to train—but when he refused, she guided him to New Rome’s masonry instead, where he earned his keep selling weapons.

Jason can’t help but notice how Leo keeps tinkering with his jacket zipper, or his belt loop. His eyebrows furrow together at the action. Even with how structured New Rome _feels_ compared to Camp Halfblood, there are still demigods who suffer from outside strife.

“You know,” Jason offers. He leans forward so he can catch Leo’s gaze and gestures to the dragon. “I told you when we got here that we didn’t need a warrior. We needed an inventor. This guy hasn’t bowed to _any_ of the Hephaestus kids that tried to tame him.”

Leo turns his head back at those words.

“And you’re doing what your mom loves,” Jason continues reassuringly. “Plus you’re not running away anymore. I bet she’d be happy that you found yourself a new life in New Rome.”

A smile curls against Leo’s face. It’s not as mischievous as before, but it seems at peace.

“You’re amazing, Valdez. With and without fire.”

A bigger smile curls against Leo’s lips, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Thanks.”

*

After a couple hours of running around the bunker, the dragon is fixed. It coos and purrs against Leo, finally at peace like its healer. Jason’s been around Camp Halfblood all his life, but he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone skillful with a screwdriver and a wrench the way Leo is.

It's probably poor practice to let Leo go home with a magic toolbelt he finds. Jason’s so guilt-ridden about exposing Leo’s insecurities that he can’t bring himself to say no.

They shadowtravel back to New Rome later that night, when all of the Forum shops are closed.

“You know,” Leo says carefully, his hand stroking his chin, “I wonder what Festus would look like as a boat. I used to dream of inventing one.”

Jason shakes his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe you named him _Happy the Dragon._ ”

Leo grins back at him, the mischief finally back in his eyes. “That was another camp. Wasn’t it?”

Jason freezes.

“Those types of trees don’t grow around San Fran.” Leo shakes his head, stuffing his hands in his new magical toolbelt. “And you kept calling them _Hephaestus_ kids. What, is there like a Greek camp, or someth—”

“Don’t tell anyone.” Jason’s face morphs with panic, and he can’t help but place both hands on Leo. The shorter demigod stumbles for a moment, looking back at him in confusion. Jason sighs in defeat. “Please.”

Leo stares back at him inquisitively, but shrugs. His hands rattle in the toolbelt. “No skin off my back, Danny Phantom. No one listens to me anyway.”

Jason sighs in relief.

“Just so you know—” Leo’s eyebrows knit together and he looks appreciatively up towards the Son of Hades. “—I know Greeks and Romans have bad blood between each other, but I appreciate _you_ listening to me today.” He suddenly looks embarrassed. “My _ex_ is the only person I’ve ever told things to, and he doesn’t even know _that_ about me.”

“Anytime.” He notices the grateful look on Leo’s face. Despite all of the complex emotions in Jason’s head, being able to focus on someone else makes him feel a bit better.

After they say their goodbyes, Jason gets ready to depart again. He never gets the chance.

“Dude,” Percy says behind him. “How long have you been here?”

*

Percy by himself is a different monster than with Nico and Thalia, Jason decides. Percy’s eyes are filled with a light much different than the other two demigods. Different from Reyna, too. He’s not a demigod recovering from lost years from the Lotus Casino. He’s a demigod that was born just a little bit earlier than Jason himself, without the weight of the world on his shoulders. At the same time, Jason wouldn’t be surprised if the guy could knock him out with a tidal wave with just a flick of the wrist.

Jason’s not even sure what to say to Percy. He thinks Nico’s scathing glares and Thalia’s warm smiles speak for themselves—but as far as he knows, he has nothing connecting him to Percy.

(Part of him wishes he could have the same light in his eyes that Percy did.)

The Son of Neptune guides him into New Rome, where the streets are lit with Greek fire, and takes him to a coffee shop filled with music. Jason still can’t wrap his mind around the idea that an entire _society_ of demigods exists without the fear of monsters. He briefly thinks back to the fact that he owes Leo a cup of coffee, too.

“What were you doing with Nico’s ex?” Percy asks him across the table.

The words hit Jason like a freight train. His expression morphs with confusion. “Nico likes—”

“Guys?” Percy muses. “Yeah.”

“I was going to say _people._ ” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together and he leans back in disbelief. He pushes the biscotti away from him.

To his surprise, the sea green eyes in front of him widen. Then, Percy tosses his head back and busts into laughter. “You really have a weird image in your head about Nico, you know that?”

Jason waits out the laugh, feeling the red in his cheeks. He thinks back to all that he knew about Nico di Angelo before they met. Everything Bianca told him before she died. Then he thinks about what he’s seen from Percy—how both Nico and the Son of Neptune seem to gravitate towards each other. How quickly Percy stood to his feet to help Nico and Hazel when Nico’s teaching methods stumbled.

He doesn’t have a connection to Percy, but Percy has a connection to Nico that makes Jason miss Bianca.

“Look,” Percy says carefully. He breaks the cookie on his plate and offers half to Jason. “You really stepped on some toes the other day when you mentioned Bianca. Thalia and I have spent a lot of time making sure he was okay her death. Or—when we _thought_ she was dead.” He wrinkles his nose. “That’s a lot for a ten-year-old kid to deal with.”

“I’d argue it’s still hard to deal with at our age, too.” Jason smiles tiredly.

Percy looks back at him, absorbing the meaning behind his words. He takes a sip of his latte and sets his cup down. He rubs his temples between his fingers and sighs. It’s much less relaxed than their first meeting. “Sorry, man. Guess it’s strange for me to wrap my head that she wasn’t _dead_ all of these years—”

“She was very much alive,” Jason interjects, and he curls his hands around his own cup. “At least for the time that I knew her.”

He gives Jason that _look_ again. The one he did after Jason mentioned how the gods handled his victory against Kronos. Percy’s eyebrows knitting together, and he looks very much as grim as Thalia did. Jason can’t sense an aura of chaos from the Son of Neptune.

“You just came at a bad time,” Percy explains. “Everyone’s on edge with Reyna missing. Nico’s taking it really hard. Thalia’s taking it hard too but she’s busy trying to keep Octavian from getting voted in as a praetor.”

“Why don’t you become praetor?”

“Because Thalia and I would kill each other.”

“Would you?” Jason’s eyebrows knit together, and he leans back in his seat. He’s honestly confused how easily Percy conjured that explanation. “You and Thalia did everything in your power to help Nico heal after losing Bianca. I did everything that I could, but Bianca never recovered from losing Nico.”

Percy stares at him.

“You two are working towards the same goal,” Jason points out. “Plus, isn’t it a good thing if there are dissenting opinions in leadership? If both of you are working towards making the Legion the best that it can be?”

The Son of Jupiter stares back at him with amusement. Percy sets his cup down once more and laughs. “You are the _only_ person in this town that thinks Thalia and I would work well together as a praetors.”

“I trust my sister,” Jason admits. “And she credits you and Nico for making sure she turned out okay after the casino. That means a lot to me.”

Sea green eyes look back to Jason, intrigued by the statement.

“You know,” Percy says slowly, “I thought I was going to have to tell you to back off with Nico and for you to watch yourself with Thalia.”

The statement doesn’t surprise Jason in the least. There’s power behind Percy’s voice. A weight in his tone, tied to the carefree look on Percy’s face.

“You’re just a kid that got mixed up in this stupid war the same way we did,” Percy says. He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes flashing with sympathy. “I hope you managed to find a support system like we did here, Jason.”

He used to have one. Jason clasps his hands together over his plate and he shrugs. “I didn’t know that I had a sister before I met Thalia. But knowing that I have one _now_ , I’d just want her to be as happy as she can be.”

As confusing as Thalia is for Jason, he knows not to doubt her love.

When he looks back up, he’s met with a look of approval on Percy’s face.

“You two are a lot more like each other than you think.” Percy snickers, and the air changes back to what it was before. "Music taste aside.”

It’s not how Jason expected to spend his evening, but part of him is glad to look back at a face who isn’t parading his name as a hero. Even if Percy’s gaze puts him on edge. “Well, what kind of music do you like?”

“The non-screamo type.” Percy grins.

The conversation changes after that, thank gods. Percy’s presence is lighter than what Jason’s used to—full of wisecracks but grounded at the same time. Percy isn’t a sibling like Thalia is, and he’s not a reminder of someone lost, like Nico is. It’s a _good_ thing that they’re not connected.

He just wishes he didn’t ruin the experience for himself.

“So your accent,” Jason says slowly. He gestures to Percy’s overall person and notices Percy stare at him curiously. “It doesn’t sound like Cali.”

“Oh—yeah.” Percy laughs quietly, as soothing as the sea. “I’m from New York. Manhattan, actually.”

He explains himself like Leo did. How before he found out he was a demigod, he was moving school-to-school, blamed for unexplainable accidents. Percy was lucky to get an elementary education at _all_ with all of the trouble he _supposedly_ caused. Being claimed by Neptune and coming to Camp Jupiter was a blessing for him and his mom—he’s been able to focus on his education without the fear of monsters trying to kill him and hone his powers.

It's different, from when Alecto brought Jason to the gates of Camp Halfblood at the age of two. From being raised by Grover and the Council of Cloven Elders.

Jason wonders what it would’ve been like, had a demigod like Percy was the Great Hero instead of himself. What it would’ve been like to grow up beside his sister. It makes him sad.

“I just wish there was a camp in New York. Only seeing my mom during the summers and winter break is pretty hard, you know?” Percy glances back at him wistfully, resting his cheek against his hand. “That’s why Nico, Thalia, and Reyna are important to me. They help make the time go by faster.”

The words tug at Jason’s chest. His appetite is suddenly gone.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees. “A camp on the east side would be pretty great.”

*

At the end of the week, Reyna, Hazel, and Piper come back from their quest. Jason can’t help but notices that Hazel looks surer of herself, commanding the winds with just her smile. Piper looks more confident in herself and confident in her abilities as a Child of Aphrodite. Confident in her relationship with Reyna.

Who seeks Jason out once the pomp and circumstance of their quest to save Hera is explained.

“You weren’t at the meeting,” Reyna says in surprise.

“I’m not a head counsellor,” Jason points out. He’s sure the Stoll Brothers will fill him in later.

Reyna arches an eyebrow at him, in his place at the med bay. She studies Jason, her glossy gaze radiating with much more power now that she has her memories back. At that moment, a _glance_ from a daughter of war is more unnerving to Jason than a battle is.

“I think I remember why your eyes bother me so much,” she confesses. She presses a hand to her forehead, her lips contorting into a grimace. “Somehow I feel like they’re usually giving me a headache.”

Jason can’t help but laugh. Probably from the many infamous screamo concerts Percy was telling him about.

“There’s a Roman Camp, Jason,” Reyna says. “That’s why I was so confident in Bellona being my mom.”

The words make a cold chill run up his spine.

“We need to figure out a way to get to it,” she continues. Her expression turns grim. “And we need to stop Gaea before she wakes up.”

All the words wither in the back of Jason’s throat. His demeanor falters, and he looks back at her.

At the piercing, glossy eyes that wanted nothing but the truth from him. He doesn’t miss the way she said _we_ —meaning him, too.

He sighs a shallow breath, knowing that the exhale won’t fix his nerves. Knowing _this_ is probably why Hades told him about the two camps.

“Jason.” She’s not asking.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I might know of a way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the comments so far guys!! Happy quarantine story number two! This is a very loose retelling of HOO, with mostly introspection on how a godswapped Jason and Nico would handle it. I'm glad you're liking it so far! 8)


	3. wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray eyes look through the ocean of purple clothed demigods. Nico’s never seen a color like those eyes. Hazel’s sunset hue were already enough to disarm him—but this girl is different
> 
> The lone Daughter of Minerva, goddess of poetry, weaving, and crafts.
> 
> “And War and Wisdom,” she interjects. She stares at Juno firmly in a way Nico has never seen a demigod address a deity (other than Percy, who’s renowned at camp for having no tact and kelp for brains.)
> 
> They all peer up, aghast. Many campers wait to see what Juno’s reaction will be—if she’s going to kill this girl that was just hailed as a hero. Instead, a proud, regal smile curls across Juno’s lips and she nods proudly.
> 
> “Yes,” Juno agrees. “I believe this camp is missing a daughter of war, isn’t it?”

Annabeth Chase arrives just a few weeks short of Nico’s birthday, the bristling cold San Francisco introducing her like a turbulent force.

Frank and he are on duty at the Caldecott Tunnel as she barrels through, comically carrying an elderly woman in her arms with the handle of a bronze knife in her fist. She’s got startling gray eyes and gold ringlets tied behind her—but more importantly, she looks utterly annoyed and ready to drop the elderly woman on the ground as they make it towards the Little Tiber.

Nico would too, after he watches the old, wrinkly woman transforms into his tiring stepmother: seven feet tall with a beautiful blue gown and a staff topped with a lotus flower. He’s never been a fan of lotuses. Juno gives him the same nonplussed look that she always does: acknowledgement of his presence and no irritation.

(He supposes after five years of being claimed as a Son of Jupiter, he should count himself lucky Juno doesn’t want to kill him more.)

“Is that a goddess?” Frank whispers beside Nico, his voice trembling. Nico makes a mental note to comment on Frank’s archery skills later, after fending off the gorgons that tailed after the pair. He knows as the months have treaded on, Frank has become more anxious in trying to figure out the identity of his father.

“It’s my stepmother,” Nico explains. He notes Percy and Thalia running towards them from the principia, both mimicking looks of surprise. Frank’s indoctrination into camp had a lot less pomp and circumstance compared to this girl. 

“ _Queen of the Gods_?” Frank pales.

Juno commands all of their attention, and a sea of demigods suddenly bow at their presence. Thalia, a jubilant force, grabs Percy by the small of his back and pushes him down. Nico kneels, but the sound of Frank squirming is really distracting.

Gray eyes look through the ocean of purple clothed demigods. Nico’s never seen a color like those eyes. Hazel’s sunset hue were already enough to disarm him—but this girl is different.

The lone Daughter of Minerva, goddess of poetry, weaving, and crafts.

“And War and Wisdom,” she interjects. She stares at Juno firmly in a way Nico has never seen a demigod address a deity (other than Percy, who’s renowned at camp for having no tact and kelp for brains.)

They all peer up, aghast. Many campers wait to see what Juno’s reaction will be—if she’s going to kill this girl that was just hailed as a hero. Instead, a proud, regal smile curls across Juno’s lips and she nods proudly.

“Yes,” Juno agrees. “I believe this camp is _missing_ a daughter of war, isn’t it?”

*

This senate meeting is Frank’s first. Nico watches as Frank stares at all of the banners and regalia from their platform instead of the stage, where Thalia is present with their newest addition. Percy looks amused by the whole situation. No one in New Rome has ever even _heard_ of a child of Minerva, let alone seen one.

“So what’s the big deal?” he asks Nico as all of the centurions settle in front of their cohorts.

Annabeth Chase seems to admire everything about Camp Jupiter: the long, marble pillars, the carvings etched above each entrance. As irritated as she was by the upsweep of events, she’s enamored by their architecture. Nico supposes that’s how architecture starts out: a fun arts and crafts project on poster board. A child of Minerva, indeed.

“Minerva is a virgin goddess,” Nico explains. One thing is certain about Annabeth: she’s every bit as ADHD as the rest of them as she looks all around the auditorium instead of addressing the court. “So what is a virgin goddess doing with a daughter?”

“Oh.” Percy soaks in the words carefully and suddenly frowns. “Well, maybe she’s like…Minerva’s champion or something?”

“Queen Juno very clearly called Annabeth Minerva’s daughter,” Frank insists. He still seems starstruck.

“Good job with the arrows, Frank. You made quick work of the gorgons.” Nico hasn’t the first idea of how to nock a bow and arrow, but he’s seen how Frank trains tirelessly with the rest of the Apollo kids, waiting to be claimed. It’s an amazing feat, considering one of the other Apollo-related demigod he knows is fixated on ripping teddy bears to shreds and pretending to tell the future.

“You did? _My man._ ” Percy grins proudly and claps a hand on Frank’s back.

All the while, Frank’s chubby cheeks swell a decadent hue and he nods happily.

They breeze through the news that is practically routine to Nico now. Reyna is still missing. Searches come back empty.

Even Percy’s lost his optimism, and they have to take turns being the comforter and the comfortee. Thalia is overrun between an ungodly amount of paperwork and chasing Octavian off as he sways people. She’s unnerved that they’ve gone so long now without hearing from Reyna, practically begging to go search for the Daughter of Bellona on her own.

(Camp Jupiter would _definitely_ fall to shambles. The nights would be quieter without concerts, though.)

Eventually, the conversation leads back to Annabeth, who stands there patiently, unwavering in her name. Annabeth Chase, Daughter of Minerva, goddess of poetry, crafts, war and wisdom. Goddess of War. 

Nico’s heart clenches at the thought.

Thalia asks if anyone wants to take Annabeth in. The room is silent. Nico assumes they’re thinking the same thing Percy and he surmised: did Minerva, the virgin goddess of crafts and poetry, _really_ have a daughter? That went against key myths.

Frank, invigorated by Percy and Nico’s praise, steps forward. “I’ll stand for her.”

All eyes land on him and he trembles. Nico pities the other demigod—he’s not one for public speaking either, but he’s grown used to having eyes on him.

“Good on you for the enthusiasm, Frank. But you’re still on _probatio._ You won’t be able to stand for another camper until you earn your first stripe.” Thalia flashes Frank a look—part admiration, part sympathy. “Plus your godly parent hasn’t claimed you yet.”

Frank shrivels with the sound of other cohorts protesting.

Enthused by his vigor, Percy claps a hand on Frank’s shoulder and smiles. “What the hell, Thal? I’ll stand for Annabeth Chase.”

Nico watches the pensive exchange between their praetor and his co-centurion. He knows the way Juno said _war and wisdom_ irked them, too.

*

Watching Percy recruit is always whiplash for Nico. The six tick marks on his arms prove that he’s fairly capable of being Roman when he wants to be. Nico supposes that’s what attracted him to Percy in the first place: even under the militant lifestyle of Camp Jupiter, the tides of Percy’s energy can’t be confined.

Percy is still very much _Percy_ as much as he is a Son of Neptune, which made it all the better when thirteen-year-old Percy stood for _Nico_ all those years ago. Nico can be _Nico_ as much as much as he’s a Son of Jupiter. More so, even.

Except for Annabeth Chase, whose SPQR tattoo is decorated with an owl versus the eagle on Nico’s own arm, Percy being a Son of Neptune is all the more reason to hate him. They barely make it out of the principia before she’s scowling.

“You’re a son of Poseidon,” she hisses in Percy’s direction. Supposedly, she has amnesia. But she clearly remembers the bitter rivalry between Minerva and Neptune.

Percy apparently got a lot of looks back in the day when he first came to camp—he was the first Son of Neptune in New Rome since Shen Lun, who was a legacy of Poseidon. Nowadays, he seemed to irritate people more with his own words than his family tree.

He stares at her, confused. And corrects her. “Son of _Neptune._ ”

“Does it matter?” Annabeth glares angrily at him, her hands coiling around her knife. It’s only then that Nico notices the cap tucked away in her back pocket.

“You’re a Yankee’s fan,” he notes, before the biting venom in her voice can kill Percy. “Percy’s from Manhattan.”

Comically, Percy doesn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed by this daughter of Minerva, even if they just saw her carry a goddess into New Rome. Just perplexed. “Do you remembering being from New York?”

Fortunately, Annabeth’s face softens. She takes the baseball cap from her back pocket and unfolds it.

“I don’t remember anything,” she confesses, her blond eyebrows furrowing together. “I’ve been using this as an _anchor_ , but every instinct has been guiding me _west_ instead of east.”

“Really? You don’t remember anything else? Not the Statue of Liberty? Empire State Building?” Percy arches an eyebrow. “Long Island?”

Annabeth’s eyes darken to the color of a storm. Nico would know—he’s summoned plenty of those. She grimaces and stuffs the cap back in her pocket. “What I _do_ remember just makes me angry.”

“Sounds like your memories and I have a lot in common then.” Percy is brass, but generally in a good way. Annabeth looks like she wants to gouge his eyes out with the edge of her knife.

Nico and Frank watch the conversation unravel like a clumsy match. Annabeth is so smart that she’s got every Chess strategy under her arsenal. Percy’s still convinced they’re playing checkers.

They make their way to Temple Hill after that. Octavian is so sure about his chances at praetor that he’s taken residence under the Jupiter Optimus Maximus to tell his fortunes. Nico’s had to redirect his morning and afternoon naps elsewhere after he inhaled stuffing from a toy Pikachu.

On the way to the Temple of Jupiter, Annabeth takes into account the lush scenery and buildings. She’s even smiling, which is a stark difference from the scowl she had on her face for Juno and the death glare she offered Percy. But she’s acutely aware there isn’t a temple of Minerva.

“Athena was the goddess of war and wisdom to the Greeks, wasn’t she?” Frank asks when it’s brought up.

Annabeth’s hard nature seems to fade at his words. She smiles and nods, and Frank sighs in relief. Bringing a new legionnaire into the Fifth Cohort was _his_ idea, and he probably feels bad that vouching for her has only brought tensions among their cohort.

“Yeah,” Percy agrees, but his voice is skeptical. This is how Nico _knows_ that Percy has selective hearing when it comes to which myths he’s willing to learn. “But the Romans remember her differently. Like with Pluto, the God of Wealth.”

“Hades, the God of the Dead,” Annabeth says almost immediately, and they’re both surprised to agree.

For some reason, Nico unwillingly thinks about the stark contrast between Thalia and Ambassador Grace. Thalia has the cruel glint in her eyes and a mother that proved how dangerous wealth could be. She played with precious metals like they were toys and could summon jewels from the ground at the flick of a wrist. Thalia was every pirate’s dream compass. Jason Grace, on the other hand, is soft and somber, his eyes sad more than cruel. Especially after the admission of slaying Kronos.

That _death_ aspect of Pluto makes Nico’s skin crawl all the same. Especially with Bianca and _Ambassador Grace_ involved.

They await Annabeth receiving a fortune from Octavian. With a Yankees cap as an anchor of her former life, Percy surmises that getting a fortune by shredded Elmo may also be their newest camper’s cup of tea. She’s completely unimpressed by it.

“I think I would know an oracle if I saw one,” Annabeth offers, deadpan.

Octavian is offended all the same. Frank doesn’t faint at the sight of severed care bear heads, so Nico decides he’s finally making progress.

“Yeah,” Percy agrees, “we’re pretty sure most of what he says is a load of bull too.”

Octavian flushes red and harrumphs, and for a second time, Nico watches Annabeth smile.

Things get stranger when Hazel and Jason suddenly appear from the shadows behind the Temple of Jupiter, hand-in-hand. Nico will never get rid of the chill that runs up his spine as he watches the ambassador just _do_ that. Jason Grace hasn’t made any more attempts to converse with him, thankfully.

“Dude!” Percy greets. Unfortunately, Percy has made every attempt to bond and embrace Jason Grace’s presence, since he clearly isn’t going away anytime soon.

The edges of Jason’s lips curl, and Nico finds exasperation in it. Percy had a knack for getting along with most people if he wasn’t trying to annoy them, and Jason is no exception. There’s a way that Jason seems to _breathe_ differently with Percy, the look in his eye is different. Nico thought Percy had grown a second head when the Son of Neptune came back to the barracks one night and explained Ambassador Grace’s thoughts on praetorship.

“He says Thalia and I did a good job raising you,” Percy mused that night.

Nico had turned red that night, his cheeks glowing. He was inclined to agree that thirteen-year-old Percy and fourteen-year-old Thalia did the best that they _could_ , but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. Not when he could imagine some wondrous gleam in Ambassador Grace’s eyes—proud, like the day at the Field of Mars.

Now, Hazel greets him with her usual hug, the winds coveting her. She’d apparently gone on a quest a month before and obtained a better grip on her powers. It sounded exactly like the halfblood way: back against the wall and blooming under pressure. Nico’s never been a fan of it.

Annabeth stares onward, not nearly as perturbed as Nico is.

Jason stares back at her, and his dark eyes widen. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, the edges of his smile fading just the tiniest bit. It’s the same look that he had on his face when Thalia reached out for him all those weeks ago. Worse.

Annabeth steps close to him, her nose wrinkled, and lips twisted into a frown. “Do I know you?”

“No,” Jason says hastily, his eyes darting everywhere but her face. He’s nervous, and Nico’s interest is piqued.

“But—” Annabeth reaches down, her hand firm on her knife, and Jason’s gaze follows her hand nervously. “I swear—”

“Jason, this is Annabeth Chase, Daughter of Minerva.” Percy jumps in immediately like he’s done plenty of times for Nico’s sake. He claps a hand on Jason’s shoulder, a clear sign that he’s taken with the other demigod and still wary of Annabeth Chase. “Weird, right?”

Annabeth diverts her gaze, reigniting her irritation of Percy. Her lips purse into a frown, and Percy meets it with a smile. It’s a calculated game that Percy’s clearly wishing would end already.

“Yeah,” Jason breathes, like he just came out of battle. “Weird.”

*

Hazel takes to the skies during the War Games with Nico that night.

“You don’t want to fight?” Hazel asks after he explained what the War Games entailed. She made a lighthearted musing that seizing banners was like Capture the Flag, which Nico ended up agreeing with.

He’s only ever played the Roman version of these games. Nico peers over at her from the sky, noting Hazel has taken his advice of tying her hair back. There were less bugs that way. “A praetor usually takes to the skies and Thalia’s afraid of heights.”

Nico faintly remembers being sidled up in front of Percy on Blackjack for the first time and being taught that Neptune wasn’t just the God of the Seven Seas, but also the god of horses. Thalia absolutely refused to get on Scipio, and effectively gave the reigns to Reyna later that year when she appeared at camp. Percy was insulted, but when he saw the way Thalia shriveled, dropped the subject.

“The Fifth Cohort doesn’t mind?” Hazel presses again, evidently confused.

“They don’t need me to shine,” Nico confesses. He smiles fondly, watching Percy, Frank, and Annabeth maneuver their way across the battlefield. Even from afar, he can tell that Percy and Annabeth are bickering over Frank’s head. The War Game are Percy’s element—where he shines with his powers and lets instinct lead his way. It’s a deadly combination with Roman tactics training, even if Percy swears that hearing about how old Roman emperors conquered city-states is too boring. Percy isn’t Nico’s hero for nothing.

Off in the distance, he watches Thalia safely tucked away in a balcony with Ambassador Grace. Jason wears black roman robes in place of his leather jacket and white shirt, practically blending into the shadows. His blond hair and pale skin makes him stick out like a sore thumb despite the regalia. Jason’s hands curl firmly against the marble—not necessarily _disinterested_ by the sounds of canons and clashing swords, but not enraptured by them either.

Hazel squeaks as a breeze tries to carry her away. Nico reaches over and anchors the other daughter of Jupiter with his arms, and she smiles timidly.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Nico promises. “It took me a while.”

A sigh of defeat flutters from Hazel’s throat, and she leans into him. “Jason said at some point it would feel as easy as breathing.”

The comparison startles Nico a little. He arches an eyebrow. “How would he know?”

He knows the answer before it even reaches Hazel’s mouth. Her eyes glitter at him awkwardly.

“Oh. Bianca.” Nico relinquishes his gaze nervously. He hates that Hazel’s first impression of him involves almost summoning a storm to strike her friend. Hazel and he are (presumably) the only children of the King of the Gods, but Jason’s tone that day—when he said he _knew_ Bianca—still irks him.

It shouldn’t bother Hazel, though. Being a child of the Big Three is confusing enough, and Nico is grateful that he had Thalia and Percy to help navigate through that. He also doesn’t think Hazel should compare herself to Bianca. Nico does that enough for himself.

“I can tell you how I got through it,” Nico assures. “And Percy and Thalia can tell you all the horror stories adapting to it.”

“ _Are_ there horror stories?” Hazel muses.

Red burns in Nico’s cheeks and he shrugs. “Probably a few.”

The games wage on. Nico watches as the trio below them make a very _un-Percy_ like move, with Annabeth gestures wildly, clearly commandeering their team. All of the battle tactics are so formal and precise that Nico has a hard time believing she has amnesia at all.

Percy begrudgingly goes along with the plan, if only so she’ll shut up, and Frank is clearly trying to play mediator. The war eagles pluck every wounded camper that feels the quake of the Son of Neptune or is at the mercy of a tactical Daughter of Minerva as she tells Frank to aim and fire arrows. They’d make a great team if they could get along for more than two seconds.

(Nico wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what Frank is thinking.)

“Who’s normally overseeing the games then?”

“Reyna.” Nico’s heart hardens in his chest. He remembers earlier that day, when Percy took Scipio out on a flight just to soothe the poor pegasus. There was something powerful about the way Reyna would descend from the heavens in purple praetor regalia on her peanut butter-colored horse as she declared victory for the Fifth Cohort. Nico used to love watching it under his Roman plume as he followed Percy into the battle.

He wishes they were still doing that.

“Right.” Hazel’s voice falters, sounding sad for him.

Nico resists all instinct to smack himself. He’s made a conscious effort not to bring Reyna up when they’re together. Even with the camp in shambles, there’s no reason for Hazel to get intertwined in the duties of camp—especially since she turned down the thought of becoming a legionnaire a long time ago.

“She’s been missing for a while now, hasn’t she?” Hazel whispers softly. To his surprise, she sounds sadder than he feels.

“She has,” Nico confirms, and his chest constricts again. He doesn’t want to pull Hazel into all of his baggage—into his need to keep his cherished ones close, and into his… _issues._

Nico really wants Hazel to like him, but a part of him knows this selfish nature is just a part of him.

“I miss her,” he admits. It hurts every time he says it out loud. Because it’s a reminder that they still haven’t found their other praetor. He leans into Hazel’s warmth, his heart resting just a little as Hazel’s arm coils around his. “But I’m glad we’re getting to know each other.”

Hazel’s eyes radiate with sympathy. She’s more solemn than when they first met. Quests tended to do that to their kind. She leans into him too, and it’s calming. Nico knows they were on completely different sides of the world a century ago, but he feels like he’s known her all his life. She’s warm, and kind, and welcoming of all the parts he’s shown her so far.

It reminds him of Bianca.

“Maybe Reyna is biding her time,” Hazel says softly. Her gaze follows Annabeth and the rest of that trio as they get closer to the banner. “Maybe she’s waiting for the perfect time to show up.”

“That’d be something,” Nico whispers back.

At the end of the night, Frank is the one who seizes the banner. Chaos ensues, when Gwendolyn gets stabbed but doesn’t die. A light appears, and the bane of Percy’s existence shows up.

Dread boils in Nico’s stomach. He cocks his head over to Thalia at the balcony, where the smile on her face has disappeared. Even Ambassador Grace is paler than usual, trembling as he sees the god from afar.

Mars, God of War, claims Frank as his son. Worst of all—he decides to send them on a quest.

*

Later that night, after calming Frank down from finding out that Mars is his father, Nico finds Thalia and Percy drinking Kool-Aids by the Little Tiber. He takes in the sight of the two other Children of the Big Three—of Thalia in her imperial gold and purple regale, and Percy with pins against his chest. There’s not a sliver of discord between them. It’s one of the little margins of peace where he can admire both of them as they take turns tossing rocks into the river.

“No Hazel?” Percy asks. He rips at the plastic tongue off another Kool-Aid and hands it to him.

“Hazel went home with Jason not too long after the games,” Nico explains. It’s always strange to see her go. He wonders what they do when they don’t come to camp. As much as Jason Grace unsettles him, Nico finds some comfort in the way Hazel follows his lead.

“He seemed pretty frazzled,” Percy agrees. He scoots over, allowing Nico to wedge himself between them, then glances over to Thalia. “You should have seen the way he looked at Annabeth. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

The edge of Thalia’s lips etch into a tired, silent smile. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. Most of the ghosts—the lares—in New Rome humor her, so the idea of her sibling being flustered by a spirit is a strange thought. Or maybe it’s the way Annabeth is supposedly the daughter of the goddess of war. Just not theirs.

“Not that I blame him,” Percy continues, and he touches his forehead. “She _hates_ me because of something my _dad_ did to her mom.”

“Because Neptune had sex with Medusa in one of Minerva’s temples,” Nico clarifies. His gaze flickers with amusement as Percy stares back at him, appalled. “Plus their fight over Athens.”

“And she wants to keep this tradition of being rivals?” Percy asks, exasperated. It’s a new look for him. He’d taken Frank in whole-heartedly and Jason pensively at first, but Nico hasn’t seen Percy so flustered and annoyed before. “Do you know _anyone_ who’d be that into tradition?” 

“Yeah,” Thalia says quietly. “Reyna.”

Their conversation falls short with the reminder of Percy’s departure in the morning.

“Hey,” Percy says quietly, nudging Nico with his shin. “Don’t be mad, okay?”

“I’m not,” Nico protests.

“Frank’s going to need someone to balance out Ms. Know It All Chase,” Percy continues, and he sighs irritably. “He’s pretty scared about his first quest. I would be too if I had an asshole like _Mars_ as my dad.”

Percy has never regaled Nico with the tales of his own first quest, but every sleight against Mars has always made him wonder what went on.

“You’re good to have on first quests,” Nico admits. “And you’re smarter this time.”

Percy makes a sound in protest, flashing him a sheepish look while Thalia bows her head with a laugh. “I’ll IM you when I can. I promise.”

He promises not to get lost like Reyna is, even if Nico knows it’s not the best promise to make.

So Nico nods and pours his untouched Kool-Aid into the Little Tiber. “An offering to Neptune for safe travels for his son, then.”

Thalia beams. “Safe travels for Kelp Brain.”

Percy grins at both of them. He slings an arm over either of their shoulders, and they enjoy the rest of the night in peace.

*

True to Percy’s word, he sends an Iris Message every free moment that he can, alternating between wanting to kill Annabeth and wholeheartedly admitting when this Daughter of Minerva did something wise. Frank seems surer of himself with each message. Parts of the quest are lost on Nico. He’s never seen Percy fling so many insults in his life. At some point, Frank gets tired of listening to them bicker and shuts them both down. Nico can’t help feeling a little proud.

The visits from Hazel and Jason Grace stop for a short while. Nico makes even more of a conscious effort in checking in on Thalia. As much as it pains him, Nico thinks Jason’s visits made her a little less sad. It’s less about her missing Reyna less, and more about Thalia’s overall happiness faltering.

So he’s a little annoyed that those visits have stopped, too.

Then, just days before his birthday, Polybotes attacks camp with monsters at his side. Percy, Annabeth, and Frank return to camp in the nick of time as Thalia wears a helm that Pluto would be proud of and commands the legion into battle. Reyna would also be stunned, watching the purple and gold bellow off of Thalia as she faces her fear and rides Scipio.

The best part is when Frank turns into an elephant, dung-cleaning duty having finally paid off, and slams into monsters left and right. It makes Nico feel a little less bad for forgetting to dismiss him all of those times.

Annabeth expertly shouts that giants need to be slain with demigods and gods working together. She’s completely thrown for a loop when Percy runs to the other side of camp, hoists Terminus in his bare hands, and they pummel Polybotes together.

(Nico can practically hear her shout, “How is this working on a technicality?!” but she has no idea how much they _do_ worship Terminus, considering he lets Thalia throw her undead concerts and lets Percy follow through with his shenanigans.)

Campers are in awe. Nico and Thalia are not the least bit surprised that _Perseus Kelp For Brains Jackson_ managed to make it all work in the thirteenth hour. Octavian is screaming into stuffed animals and ripping into the seams with his teeth.

When the New Romans go to hoist him in the air, _praetor_ vibrating at their mouths, Percy shakes his head. He throws his hand towards Annabeth instead.

“None of this would have been possible without the Daughter of War, and Wisdom,” he declares, and she’s stunned by his humbleness. Nico isn’t. “Praetor Annabeth!”

With the sway of the Fifth Cohort Centurion, the New Romans lift the speechless demigod into the air, her blond hair swaying in the wind, and shout the same thing. “Praetor! Praetor! Praetor!”

In the background, Percy flashes Nico a smile, face still glistening from the heat of battle, and they hug. Thalia lands, staring at the scene unfolding in front of her.

“And you’re sure about this?” she asks skeptically.

“I think Reyna would do the same thing,” Percy admits. That seems to be enough to soothe their nerves.

Thalia begged both of them to trust Jason Grace, and Nico reaffirmed that he trusted _her._ The same sentiment is shared when it comes to Percy. Nico may be wary of most things, but he trusts Percy’s judgment.

Besides, after a week with two New Romans, the lone Daughter of Minerva looks like she belongs. And Nico doesn’t need to worry about someone breathing down his neck about becoming praetor. It’s a win/win.

When the high of their victory comes to a lull, Jason Grace and Hazel come back.

With Reyna in tow.

*

Reyna looks different. Different in the same way as Annabeth, pre-and-post quest. Her hair is shorter, cut into a sleek bob that ends at her chin. In place of the brooding purple is a sunny orange shirt with _Camp Halfblood_ etched across her torso. The image below the logo is of a pegasus, and Nico isn’t the slightest bit surprised that _pegasi_ are what might’ve gotten Reyna lost. Except he knows Reyna wasn’t called away because of pegasi.

Nico wonders if the haircut has anything to do with the Native American girl holding her hand, and a sickening feeling boils in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t even want to know what the look on Thalia’s face is right now—it’s probably worse than his own.

Most importantly, Reyna looks safe and _healthy_ , and she’s alive. Nico’s heart trembles in his chest, his eyes refusing to blink, in fear she might disappear again.

The shock only fades away when Aurum and Argentum affectionately bark, trotting towards Thalia like real puppies. They barrel her over and lick her with their metal tongues.

“Hey!” Thalia shouts, but it dissolves into laughter.

Nico doesn’t know who moves first—he feels his feet treading forward, and all of a sudden, Reyna is in front of him, and they’re hugging. His heart leaps in his chest and he lets a breathy sob—the first _real_ breath he’s been able to take since before Reyna disappeared.

Reyna buries her face into the crook of his shoulder, her hands tight and steady around him. Rooting Nico into reality.

“I missed you,” Nico says to her, and he stupidly feels ten again. The words are there at the tip of his tongue: he never wants her to go away ever again. Never wants to be apart from the Daughter of Bellona that he’s grown to love as one of his sisters.

“I missed you too,” Reyna says back, and her voice is every bit as small as Nico’s feels.

Percy appears at their side, his expression nervous. Reyna looks up to him, offering a withering look like the one she gave when she came off Blackbeard’s ship. To this day, her sharp glance still makes him anxious, like she’s trying to figure out what kind of riot he’s about to cause. Then she smiles, letting him wrap her in an awkward side-hug. Percy kisses her platonically on the forehead.

“Welcome back,” he greets, exhausted.

It’s Reyna’s reunion with Thalia that makes Nico’s heart twist. They take one look at each other, Thalia’s gaze hollow. The smile betrays the heartbreak on her face, as she stares past Reyna and towards the pretty girl standing awkwardly next to Ambassador Grace and Hazel.

“Hi, Thalia,” Reyna says. Her voice is its silky alto, Thalia’s name strumming from her mouth for the first time in months. Nico doesn’t want to let go of her. Percy’s close, too. After so many months without their praetor, they can’t stand the thought of losing her again.

Thalia smiles back at her, all of the frustration and sadness she’s had in the last few months still present. “You cut your hair.”

Percy and Nico share a knowing look.

Fortunately, Annabeth returns to their side, dressed in imperial gold and purple robes. She stares at Reyna in fascination—at the orange shirt, and the glow in her eyes. Then she gestures to the owl on her forearm. “I’m apparently not supposed to exist here.”

Nico doesn’t think they’ve ever met before. Reyna smiles anyway, if only to avoid the awkward situation.

“Funny,” she says. “I was going to say the same thing about your camp.”

*

All the words come out in the mess hall. A Greek camp exists at the edge of New York. Long Island Sound, to be exact. Juno swapped both leaders in order to unite the camps. The Greeks and Romans have had a deadly past, which led to the American Civil War and many others before and after it. As the goddess of family (and Nico’s very headache-inducing stepmother) she no longer wanted to have her family separated. The Great Prophecy about seven halfbloods reached both camps, and Juno knew ( _assumed_ ) that the Greek and Roman demigods would need a united front in order to defeat Gaea.

Percy is twitching the entire time Annabeth deduces this. He stares at her, chalice in hand. “At what point did you figure this out?”

“After the gorgon’s blood,” Annabeth explains, like that’s supposed to mean something.

“I thought you were _kidding_ about drinking it.”

Annabeth flashes a terrifying look that’s more scathing than anything Reyna has given. She slams her knife into the table, which she’d been shining since they all sat down in the cafeteria (Jason and Hazel included. Jason in particular winces as the blade drives into the wood) and glares at him. “Maybe if your brain wasn’t so full of _seaweed_ , you’d be able to tell when I was _cracking a joke._ ”

“That’s _kelp for brains_ , thank you,” Percy snarks back.

Evidently they still had unresolved issues to work out. This attitude is a complete 180 of the fanfare they saw only hours ago, when Perseus Jackson, Son of Neptune and Centurion to the Fifth Cohort declared Annabeth Chase worthy of praetorship. Nico glances to the end of the table, noting the exhaustion in Frank’s eyes despite the successful retrieval of the Fifth Cohort’s eagle. It’s amazing they managed to make it back to camp _at all._

“So you were at Camp Halfblood,” Nico says softly to Reyna. He doesn’t like how comfortable she is, leaning into that daughter of Aphrodite. There were so many times where Nico dreamt about introducing Hazel to Reyna—but he sees now that they’re familiar with each other, too.

The quest that Hazel went on, where she got a better grip of her powers, was with Reyna. And this Piper McLean.

Reyna looks back at him, a stranger on the other side of the long table. She nods.

“How long?” Thalia asks. Her gaze flits to Jason, and the thought running through her head hits Nico hard.

He finds himself staring at this Ambassador to Pluto—at this _Son of Hades_ , burning holes into Jason while the blond demigod stares down at his feet. There’s only _one way_ Hazel and Jason have been traveling back and forth between the camps, and Hazel surely isn’t the one who suggested Camp Jupiter.

“A month,” Reyna responds. Her replies have been nothing but soft while ushering Thalia to talk to her. It’s hard to watch.

Thalia’s eyes ignite coldly.

Reyna continues, her gaze suddenly narrowing. “We needed to make sure that Annabeth was actually—”

“So all that time—” Percy interjects suddenly, his voice filling with ire. Goosebumps rise across Nico’s forearms as he watches Percy’s sea green eyes boil. “—when we were telling you how camp was in _shambles_ without Reyna, you’ve known where she was?”

Jason stares back at him, bewildered. He doesn’t tense in the way Percy does.

“Percy,” Hazel interjects softly. She comes to this faux ambassador’s aid, still, and her eyebrows furrow together. “It’s complicated.”

“ _Complicated_?” Percy suddenly laughs, and it’s terrifying to Nico. He’s never been on the receiving end of Percy’s anger. Not like this. But he knows Percy treasures loyalty above all else. “I told you about how far I travel _every summer_ and nearly _die_ just to see my mom. And you _lied_ to my face—”

“I didn’t lie.” Jason’s voice is steady, but the protest is weak. “I agreed that an east coast camp would be good.”

The feeble excuse only aggravates the situation. Percy’s hand coils into a fist—and he stands to his feet, his chair scraping at the tiled floor with a sickening sound. He punches Jason right in the face.

“ _JASON!”_ Painfully, it’s Reyna that calls his name.

Jason’s chair reverberates off the tiled floor, and the echo of it causes many of the aurae and other campers look towards them in confusion. Blood is suddenly dribbling from all parts of Jason’s nose, smearing his pale fingers and dripping around his mouth. His harem—Hazel, Piper McLean, and now Reyna, too—all hover around him.

Nico’s absolutely mortified, watching as Percy’s gaze boils darkly.

“Percy,” Reyna hisses, and she glares at him. “What in _Hades_ was that for?”

“Hades, huh?” Percy retorts angrily. He turns his heel and stomps out of the food hall, clearly _done_ with the conversation.

Thalia doesn’t respond. She pushes her coffee aside—the one she’d been drinking every day since Reyna left—and leaves, too.

Frank scrambles to the floor when Nico is too stunned to say a word, his newfound confidence firm. “Let’s get you to the medic bay.”

Annabeth Chase doesn’t even blink. She stares at Jason’s bloodied shirt, and unlike with Percy, wholeheartedly agrees with Frank’s suggestion. She and Jason Grace share a brief look, and her expression darkens the same way they did the first day: when she told Nico and the rest of them everything that she _did_ remember just made her angry.

*

Nico searches for Thalia first. He’s never seen Percy that angry before and it scares him. A lot. It’s better in his head to go search for Thalia, in the praetor office, utterly focused on signing documents. Nico thinks that if anything, Thalia’s penmanship has probably improved in the time that Reyna was gone.

What a great tradeoff—neat handwriting for their praetor.

He feeds Thalia and Reyna’s goldfish like he has been for the last week and watches her quietly at the other end of the desk. Nico takes a moment to glance at Thalia’s signature. And resists the urge to laugh. “Are you just forging _Reyna’s_ name?”

“It looks nicer,” Thalia protests. She presses a hand to her cheek, freckles smushing together.

“She’s been missing for _months_ ,” Nico retorts. “Her signature has no validity to it.”

“It’s still nicer to look at,” Thalia grumbles. Though this time she smiles—her first one since Reyna stepped foot back in New Rome. Nico can’t help but sigh in relief. It falters all the same, and she echoes her sentiment from earlier. “Reyna cut her hair.”

To any unsuspecting person, Nico thinks a simple haircut would be nothing. But he remembers the stars in his eyes when Reyna stepped off that boat with a cutlass in her hand. She’d cut her hair short and disguised herself as one of Blackbeard’s crew after Circe’s Island was blown up. There wasn’t an inkling of trust in those eyes. Nico saw the long red cape, the captain’s hat and sword, and almost questioned his sexuality all over again. Fourteen-going-on-fifteen Thalia had her sexuality _confirmed_ when Reyna pinned her against a wall and demanded to speak to the commanding officer.

She’d been growing out her hair since making a home out of New Rome. Maybe unintentionally. Nico remembers her explaining how polished and prim she looked as one of Circe’s servants. All of the pomp and circumstance, which she actually _liked_. Being able to relax and make herself look beautiful was a good thing. Reyna cutting it off, shedding the locks she’d grown at her time in New Rome was like shutting a door.

Nico’s not sure if he wants to hear if Reyna liked this Camp Halfblood better _._

“Reyna came back,” Nico has to remind her. Has to remind himself. “And she’s safe. And you would have spent all of this time catching her up about your brother anyway. Now you know that they already know each other, and they like each other.”

Thalia seems to take his words to heart. She stares at him for a moment, eyes still depressed, and her expression wavers. “You know what the worst part is? I _trusted_ him.”

The words cut through Nico’s heart. He doesn’t know what he would do if Percy, Reyna, or Thalia no longer trusted him. Nico would probably be lost. He doesn’t want to mention that he didn’t trust Ambassador Grace from the _beginning_ —because it doesn’t seem relevant now. Not while Thalia’s had her heart ripped from her chest twice over today.

“And,” Thalia whispers, her voice gentle in only the way Jason Grace could render it, “I still want to trust him. I want to believe he had a reason for doing all of this.”

Nico’s not sure what to say to that. She’s far more forgiving about the situation than he knows Percy will be. Percy is careful about who he gives his trust to, and earning it back is hard. Nico’s never endured that—doesn’t want to—but he’s seen how Percy has reacted to malicious campers who suddenly wanted to be on his good side again. He doesn’t want to give her false hope.

“He’s my _baby brother_ , Nico,” Thalia says softly, her voice aching. “If that was Bianca—”

“Except it wasn’t,” Nico interjects. “She’s dead.”

He doesn’t want to think about what life was like for Bianca at Camp Halfblood. If she wore the same gaudy orange shirt that Reyna and Piper McLean wore, or how familiar Jason really _was_ with her. Ever since Jason Grace showed up, Nico feels like he has to give the constant reminder that he’s at _peace_ with her death. He doesn’t want anyone to ruin how far he’s come in accepting that.

Thalia stares at him with the same intensity. She doesn’t back down the way Jason did. “Would you have forgiven her if she was the one that housed Reyna for months?”

“I don’t know what I would do. I don’t even know how she reacted to being a halfblood,” Nico reminds her. He reels back, putting an end to this conversation as fast as he can.

“What about Hazel, then?”

“I never would have _met_ Hazel if Jason Grace hadn’t interfered.” Nico means for that to come out more scornfully against the Son of Hades. It doesn’t. All of the months that he lamented over Reyna’s disappearance were just a little bit better with Hazel at his side.

“Yeah,” Thalia agrees softly, and she leans back. “I never would have found Jason again if he didn’t feel the need to bring Hazel here.”

Nico’s not sure if that’s the takeaway that he wants—they’re both still very angry to have this sneaky demigod come into their lives and lie to them about Reyna’s whereabouts. But Thalia looks like she feels better, so he doesn’t push it.

“The Great Prophecy said seven demigods,” Nico says instead. “We need to decide who we’re sending.”

Thalia’s eyes flutter back to him, her expression thoughtful. It reminds him of how she looked when she figured out how to break out of the Lotus Casino. Thalia _jests_ about signing Reyna’s name on all of the official documents, but there’s a reason she’s the other praetor at Camp Jupiter. “Yeah. We do.”

*

Reyna finds him before he finds Percy. Her hair bounces with each stride, and Nico briefly muses that they could share hairdos. Her expression is dire, ebony eyebrows knitted together and lips curled into a crooked frown. It’s exactly how Nico remembers her.

“I just talked to Percy,” she declares, and she’s exasperated. “He’s mad.”

“Can you blame him?” Nico arches an eyebrow. They stand outside the principia, with the northern California gales bristling past them. Nico takes firm note that Reyna doesn’t climb the steps. She glances at the entrance, her poker face accentuated with a firm line across her lips.

There’s a nervousness there. Nico doesn’t think there’s anyone truly more Roman than Reyna, Daughter of Bellona, but she looks at him like she fits in less than her new hairdo does. Probably because Reyna didn’t miss the sad look Thalia gave her, either.

“She’s doing paperwork up there,” Nico mentions quietly. “She’s taken it over while you were gone.”

Reyna stares back at him, shocked. “No screamo concerts?”

“No screamo concerts.”

They sit on the steps in silence. Nico doesn’t know what to do with a Reyna that is too reluctant to step into her own office. Nico’s sure that their goldfish would be elated to see her.

“Why did you wait so long to come see us?” Nico asks inaudibly.

Reyna’s shoulders heave. “We had to wait until Annabeth showed up. We wanted to make sure Juno really _did_ swap us, and she wasn’t just lost.”

“We were lost without you.”

“Camp Jupiter has Percy, and Thalia, and _you._ ” Reyna shakes her head dismissively and she stares at the sunset in the sky like they used to, before this whole mess. “Camp Halfblood only had Jason. Hazel wants to step up, but she hasn’t seen as much war as we all have. Not as much as he has.”

Nico doesn’t like the familiarity in her tone. “What do you know about him?”

Her gaze softens, and she looks back to him, her hair swaying as it goes. Nico misses her glossy braid. “I know I felt better after finding out both Jason and Hazel were children of Hades and Zeus.”

Nico’s heart warms at the thought. Even with amnesia, Reyna evidently found comfort in their lineage. Hazel and Jason are _nothing_ like Thalia and him though, and the difference is hilariously blunt. He leans into her, touching her shoulder with his own to make sure she’s still there. “I don’t want you to leave again.”

Reyna shrinks beside him once more, her own expression filled with sorrow. “I’m afraid I might have to.”

The statement leaves a bitter twinge in Nico’s heart. He knows she isn’t wrong, but he doesn’t want to think about it. “Tell me about your girlfriend.”

It hurts to see her smile and be so distant. Reyna explains how she woke up on a school bus with her head buried in Piper’s lap. Piper was convinced that they were dating, and, after a perilous quest that involved saving Piper McLean’s father, Reyna really Piper, too. The fact that she was forcefully ripped from her home once again and needed to reintegrate in a Camp that denied the existence of her mother was awful. Piper reminds her how important she still is, even if the Greek pantheon doesn’t acknowledge her.

Nico wonders if Piper is her pillar—someone to support her if New Rome decided to reject this new, realized Reyna. It hurts him more that she would think they’d ever turn their backs on her—but he’s reminded how both Thalia and Percy quickly stomped off after Percy smashed Jason Grace’s face in.

He doesn’t understand _how_ conversations keep gravitating towards Jason Grace, but they do. Nico tries to grasp what Reyna says about how the _cabins_ are set up instead of having barracks. It’s horrifically stupid to segregate campers into cabins when the gods generally stood in a united front.

“In all my time at Camp Halfblood,” Reyna confesses, “I still don’t understand him.”

“I made it a point not to try,” Nico huffs.

He’s taken aback when Reyna laughs. It’s a sweet, delicate sound that is usually drowned out by her stress from Percy and Thalia’s antics. “They hail him as this great Chosen One who defended New York and killed Kronos. But he insists that he’s not a head counselor and that he’s not a leader. All I had to do was _ask_ Chiron and he let me into the Big House. I haven’t seen him so much as lift a sword.”

“Not even during War Games?”

“Capture the Flag.”

Suddenly Hazel’s comment days ago makes sense. Nico wrinkles his nose—calling it _Capture the Flag_ made it sound so much more juvenile.

“He’s good in a support role, though. The first thing he does every morning is go for a run and then ask Will—this Apollo kid—if he needs help in the med bay. Then he checks on Hazel. Then he checks on other campers.” Reyna shakes her head, amused. “I’ve joined him on these runs. It’s like they forget that his father is the King of the Dead. He isn’t scary to them at all.”

“You’re right. He’s not.” Nico grimaces warily, reminded of Jason Grace’s pale skin and dark eyes and soft smile. It completely betrayed whatever punk aesthetic he was going for. Jason Grace looks like he was about to audition for the part of a greaser, and he’d be lucky to be cast as an understudy’s understudy. “Thalia isn’t scary either.”

Reyna stares at him.

“She’s scary _looking_ ,” Nico finishes, his cheeks blazing red. “There’s a difference.”

A smile curls across her face, and the pensiveness in her eyes makes Nico realize she really isn’t planning on going into the principia. To Thalia. Instead, she stuffs a hand in her pocket and pulls out a small packet. “I got you something.”

“For what?”

“Your _birthday._ ”

Oh. Nico stares at the delicately wrapped package in her hands. He inspects it carefully. Reyna was good with her words, but she wasn’t always good with her hands. Part of him wonders if Piper McLean helped him with it. He hears Children of Venus had a knack for making everything look beautiful, even when they’re trying everything in their power not to. He unwraps it carefully and his heart flutters.

“ _Thank you_.” Nico stare at the Mythomagic cards happily and tears the plastic open. A grin lifts his lips as he notices new, holographic cards he’s never seen before.

“You can only get them in New York,” Reyna explains. “I hate it when special events are location-based. Don’t you?”

“It’s the worst,” Nico agrees, and his smile widens. He flips a card over and admires both the design and sheen coming off the card. Athena.

“There’s another thing,” Reyna continues. She lets out a nervous sigh and hands him a photo.

Nico’s heart drops when he looks at it. At first, he doesn’t recognize the girl in the photo. She looks about his age—just at the cusp of fifteen or sixteen. A lump swells in his throat as he looks further—at her pretty blue eyes that she used to hide under her green news cap, and her olive complexion. She’s smiling, dressed in a pastel dress with a Peter Pan collar and shiny booties. The outfit looks _timeless_ to Nico, and she looks happy. Truly happy.

And much older than the Bianca that they left at the Lotus Casino.

“She was beautiful,” Reyna whispers softly. “Jason wanted to give this to you himself, but…mentioned something about you two not having a very good relationship. He seemed sad about it.”

Nico’s nose wrinkles. He looks back at her, trying his best to stifle his irritation, and then looks back at the photo. A thought occurs to him: if Bianca was smiling this beautifully in the photo, then whoever the photographer was must’ve made her happy. And he has a good idea who _that_ was. He tucks the photo away in his hoodie pocket and kisses Reyna on the cheek.

“You’re the best birthday present I could’ve asked for,” he says.

*

Nico finds himself alone with his thoughts later that night. He sits above the Jupiter Maximus Temple, after Octavian’s office hours, and soaks in the peace of Camp Jupiter. It wouldn’t be long before camp was overrun by monsters yet again, and they’d have to defend it. Gaea was coming.

A rhythmic tapping catches his attention again. He peers downward, and his stomach flops in knots.

Jason Grace stares back at him, nose splinted, with fading bruising under his eyes. If he wasn’t so pale, then Nico doesn’t think he would have noticed at all.

Nico stares back at him for a moment, debating his options.

On the other hand, Jason Grace takes the nonverbal acknowledgement as a cue to climb up the side of the temple, and stumbles before sitting beside him.

“Ambassador,” Nico greets wryly. He doesn’t miss the way Jason winces at the title. “Not trying to scare me today? With that _shadowtraveling_?”

Jason stares at him, puzzled. “You weren’t a fan of it the last time I did it.”

Oh. Nico tries not to look so shocked at the consideration. The photograph is burning a hole in his pocket—and he thinks back to Reyna’s insistence about this Son of Hades. How Jason Grace wanted to give him this photo of Bianca _himself_ , but predicted Nico would react poorly to it. Ugh.

Looking closer, Nico would have never known that Percy broke Jason’s nose if it weren’t for the droplets of blood on that white shirt. His voice is hoarse. Nico’s sure that the wound would’ve looked worse without ambrosia.

Jason lets out a sigh, and winces as the ache trickles up his nose. “Please don’t be mad at Hazel.”

“I’m _not._ ” Nico’s eyebrows furrow together, and he’s severely uncomfortable. He isn’t glad about Thalia’s takeaway from their conversation, but he’s also aware of his own words: if this whole mess didn’t start, then he never would have met Hazel. Knowing there’s another child of Jupiter—child of _Zeus_ out there makes his heart hurt a little less. “I don’t think anyone is mad at _Hazel_ , ambassador.”

He doesn’t get a response immediately. Jason Grace sags at his seat, not biting back with any words. Even when Percy was yelling at him in the food hall, Jason’s only protest was meager at his mouth.

“Where is she, anyway?” Nico asks quietly, when he understands that Jason isn’t going to argue.

“Frank took her sightseeing. I think they’ve taken a liking to each other.” Jason smiles weakly, but it fades just as fast. “Thalia locked the office doors.”

“She’s conflicted.”

“I know.” Jason’s gaze falls to the ground. “I think I’m going to go away for a while.”

Nico cocks his head back.

“There’s this line in the new prophecy. Foes bearing arms at the Doors of Death,” Jason explains, his voice soft and tense at the same time. “I’m the only one that can travel freely in and out of the Underworld. It makes sense for me to go down there. Maybe I can help somehow.”

“So you weren’t kidding about the ambassador part.” Nico frowns.

Jason nods tiredly and heaves an exhausted sigh. “My dad told me about Camp Jupiter after the war. He thought it’d be worth knowing about and said no one would notice if his son was wandering around. No one notices what Hades does, so long as he stays underground.”

“He gave you a doorway to Thalia.”

“I didn’t know that at the time. I just thought I was helping Hazel find guidance. Not—a sister, and…you.” Jason’s eyes flicker for a moment, the dark of his eyes filling with something else. He suddenly tenses, glancing at Nico from the corner of his eye. His demeanor falters and he shakes his head. “Sorry, I—started rambling there.”

His voice is timid and quiet. Shy, even. Maybe more than that. Nico stare back at the other demigod beside him, wondering how he went from such a smooth, regal ambassador to…this.

“I used to stargaze and talk like this,” Jason says quietly. “With Bianca. She used to love it.”

Nico’s hands twitch at his sides. To his surprise, he’s not angry. If anything, he’s more confused—the Lord of the Dead offered Jason a passage to his past, and he only used it to help Hazel? He contemplates that for a moment, and then slackens. “It’s because even after a century, the stars still look the same.”

Monuments may have been built while they were trapped in the Lotus Casino. Forests may have been destroyed. People have died. But looking at the sky, Nico _knows_ it’s changed the least. Storms still form over harbors. Snow still falls in the north. It’s comforting, even if Jupiter makes him feel exposed.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Jason smiling again under the white bandage. His skin crawls.

“Stop doing that,” Nico berates.

“Sorry.” Jason doesn’t press on Bianca again.

“If you go to the Doors of Death without saying goodbye to Thalia, she won’t forgive you. Even if she won’t talk to you right now,” Nico points out. “Percy’s going to hate you even more, and I’m not too fond of you myself. It’s just going to cause more stress for Reyna.”

Pale blond eyebrows knit together, looking defeated and nothing like a Hero of Olympus that Reyna claimed he was. Nico finds himself believing Reyna’s words about Camp Halfblood needing help. He doesn’t understand how someone so _soft_ could have slain Kronos.

At the same time, this ambassador claims he doesn’t _fight_ anymore, and the idea of going down to the Underworld to _bear arms_ sounds so strained coming out of him. Like despite whatever pacifistic lifestyle he’s picked up, Jason Grace is forcefully casting it aside for the line of duty. 

Part of him wonders how it would have been different—if Thalia and Jason were swapped instead. Or maybe Percy and Jason. He knows Percy has been wanting to be close to his mom for a long time, so maybe things would have gone more smoothly. Or worse. But in that scenario, Jason could still reunite with Thalia and both she and Percy would be happy.

“I think I know someone who can help build a boat to get to Olympus,” Jason says finally. “It’ll be good. He’s already messed with some Greek automatons.”

Nico blinks. If anything else, Jason’s angle to bridging both the camps has gone a lot more smoothly than Juno’s.

“Thank you, Nico. This was a good talk.” Jason does what he did the first time—leaning alarmingly close to Nico—then pulls back. Nico resists the urge to push him. “Oh, sorry. Reflex.”

He scales off the roof, this time using the ladder, and leaving Nico even more confused.

*

At the end of the night, Nico retires to his bottom bunk. He briefly notices that Frank and Annabeth are missing from their bunks—and wonders if the two children of war are trying to come up with a plan of action for the prophecy. Dakota’s snoring is loud, but soothing.

Percy squeaks on the top bunk. “Hey.”

Nico touches the metal bars above his head and watches the mattress undulate under Percy’s weight. “Hey.”

“Sorry you had to see that,” Percy grumbles quietly, but audible enough for Nico to hear. “Reyna’s not too happy with me right now.”

“She told me you weren’t happy about it either.”

Percy hums in affirmation, clearly still tired from returning from his quest. “How do you feel about it?”

After a whirlwind from Thalia, Reyna, _and_ Ambassador Grace, Nico’s not sure. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m here,” Percy promises. “I’m always here for you, Neeks.”

For now _,_ Nico can’t help but think. Percy, Reyna, and Thalia are only here for now. “Thanks.”

*

The next morning, Nico goes from _I don’t know_ to _I hate Jason Grace_ all over again.

He watches as Jason and Leo Valdez walk into the principia, side by side, absolutely carefree and blissful. Leo has that stupid shit-eating grin on his face, rambling with his hands tucked in some new toolbelt while Jason has the gall to laugh.

Nico’s so dumbfounded by the whole situation that he forgets to hide behind Percy. Percy tenses, the lines in his forearms prominent as he clenches his fists, and Nico has to put a hand on the Son of Neptune before he can do something stupid again.

Jason Grace actually looks disheveled, with blond hair flurried and out of place. The bags under his eyes are prominent, and Nico notes the bits of dried blood still at the hem of his shirt. He probably hasn’t slept since their conversation last night.

They all sit there in the meeting room. Nico notes Hazel casting worried glances his way, their talk postponed. She looks comfortable next to Frank, who looks surer of himself than a week ago. Annabeth sits next to a relieved Thalia, while Reyna and Piper McLean sit on the other side. Nico’s not sure if Annabeth and Thalia have kindled a friendship or not—but he notices Annabeth doesn’t look up when Jason arrives.

There’s ten of them there, and only four of them are Greek. Nico doesn’t think he can even count Leo as a Roman party, since he never had any interest in joining the Legion. But here he is now, and Nico can’t help but tap his foot against the floor, anxious.

“This is Leo Valdez,” Jason introduces.

“We know who he is,” Percy retorts.

Reyna glares at him from across the table, then gestures to their Greek demigods. “Not all of us.”

The gasp that leaves Hazel’s lips doesn’t go unnoticed by Nico. He looks over to her, and she looks like she’s seen a ghost. Jason and she share a quiet, knowing look, and Nico’s head throbs.

“He helped me with a dragon in the woods a couple of months ago. A metal one.” Jason gestures to Leo again and the Son of Vulcan has a pleased grin, despite his nervous, tinkering fingers. “He’s been telling me about his dreams and I think they’re Juno related.”

_Dreams_? Nico twitches. Leo never told him about any dreams while they were dating, and while he’s not jealous per se, he’s irritated. Jason and Leo have known each other for only a few months and Leo has apparently confided more in Jason Grace than he did when they were dating.

“He mentioned building a boat, with the dragon—”

“Festus, Danny Phantom.” Leo cuts him off, halfheartedly offended. “My boy has a name.”

Jason smiles. “Festus the Dragon. He mentioned that Festus was always the figurehead of the boat in his dreams. I think he’s one of the seven.”

“We can call it the Argo II,” Leo says. He jibes Jason in the rib far too familiarly. The declaration falls on deaf ears, and Jason flushes pink.

“The Argo II,” Reyna repeats, finally. She smiles proudly at him, which seems to make Leo relax a little. “I like it.”

“Leo,” Thalia starts, and she arches an eyebrow in the air. “Do you even know how to fight?”

Leo fiddles with the toolbelt around his hips, suddenly nervous. Nico knows what it’s like when Leo gets flustered like this—he sweats a little, moves his gaze anywhere but the person’s face, and something hurtful usually comes out. Usually at him. But to Nico’s surprise, Jason presses a hand on Leo’s shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze.

“Leo is the _only_ one who was able to calm Festus,” Jason says proudly. “No one in Hephaestus Cabin has been able to do that.”

Surprisingly, Annabeth peers up and soaks in the information. She looks over to Thalia and Reyna, all three praetors contemplating this decision.

“Coincidences don’t exist for us,” Annabeth say finally. “If Leo’s had dreams about Juno and he’s able to calm down Festus, then that means that blending the two camps is working. We need to be a united front.”

Reyna smiles back at her, both daughters of war marching to the same beat. “Agreed.”

Leo lets out a huge sigh of relief. His gaze quickly flutters over to Nico, and the Son of Jupiter all but rams his foot into the floorboard.

“Plus,” Piper McLean says, her voice sly, “words are just as powerful as swords.”

The Son of Vulcan flashes a look to the Daughter of Aphrodite, both intrigued, and Nico thinks he has a migraine.

*

Thalia pulls Jason and he aside after the meeting. The bags under her eyes matches her brother’s—and Nico wonders how long it took for Thalia to fall asleep last night. It certainly took him a while.

“I did a lot of thinking last night,” she says. Her eyes soften, back to the sad look she had under the moonlight. “I don’t want either one of you on this boat.”

Nico’s heart drops in his chest. Jason stares back at her in surprise.

“I saved you from the Lotus Casino so you could live your life,” Thalia says. She gestures to Nico, brushing a hand over his, then she looks over to Jason. Her eyebrows furrow together, lips tight, while Jason tenses under her gaze. “And I thought I lost you a long time ago.”

“You haven’t been on a quest since you saved me,” Nico croaks. His chest hurts at the thought. Thalia has defended camp many times, but the thought of getting lost in the Lotus Casino has always been terrifying to her.

“That’s because my _only_ quest afterwards was to be a good big sister.” Thalia smiles him at him weakly, and her gaze lifts back to Jason, who looks as torn as Nico feels. “You’re as much my baby brother as Jason is.”

Jason’s entire demeanor falls. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words don’t come out.

Thalia’s expression hasn’t changed much from the same before. It’s still somber from the turn of events and from Reyna’s reappearance, but there’s a little bit of pride. “I don’t know what all of the choices were that brought you here to me, Jason. Maybe I don’t agree with all of them. But I’m still glad to know that you didn’t die all those years ago with Mom.”

His shoulders slacken. Jason raises his head for a moment, eying Nico. As annoyed as Nico is with the Leo situation, the sadness from last night resonates with him.

“You two should talk,” he says. “Alone.”

As they walk off down the staircase into Camp Jupiter, Nico feels a hand on either one of his shoulders.

“You know,” Percy says quietly, the worry emanating in his voice. “This means Thalia, Reyna and I are all going.”

Yeah. Nico’s heart hurts in his chest. He’s been avoiding that thought morning, knowing that Percy going on the quest with Annabeth and Frank signified something. Reyna going missing signified something too, and Thalia’s declaration makes it clear. He knows it was inevitable that he’d be left behind some day—but he didn’t think it’d be so soon.

“Annabeth is going too,” Reyna says on the other side of him. She sounds amused. “Which means there won’t be any praetors at camp.”

Nico freezes.

Despite their disagreement last night, Percy and Reyna are suddenly both very civil _._

“So what do you say, Son of Jupiter?” Percy asks, unabashed.

Nico groans.

This was the worst timeline.

*

Nico’s birthday gets swept under the rug in favor of building the so-called Argo II. He doesn’t want to celebrate it anyway—not with the realization that his three favorite people are about to go off and fight Gaea. Thalia’s air of sadness doesn’t go away after her conversation with Jason. She’s stricken with the grief knowing that despite not wanting Jason to go off into danger, he’s doing it for their sake anyway.

Even Nico pities Jason—going down to the Underworld to try and close the Doors of Death from the other side sounds terrifying. Jason stays long enough to teach her how to shadowtravel between both camps so Happy the Dragon can be reconstructed into the Argo II, then disappears.

Getting Children of Vulcan and Children of Hephaestus to agree long enough to build a ship is like pulling teeth—even worse since Leo isn’t technically a camper. Nico’s surprised that Leo didn’t talk Jason into oblivion on the first day. He visits the bunker exactly once, because he doesn’t like the sensation of shadowtravel and would rather _die_ than spend another afternoon with Leo Valdez.

Lessons between Hazel and he continue. She treads around him like she does when it comes to talking about Bianca. Nico’s so aloof that he doesn’t realize she’s still worried that he might be mad at her.

“I’m never going to regret having you in my life,” Nico tells her one day when they’re training. “No matter how we got here.”

She smiles at him with tears in her eyes, and they’re a little closer after that. Nico can’t help but think his own words match Thalia’s sentiment with Jason.

There’s the obvious tension between Thalia, Reyna, and Piper McLean that Nico desperately tries not to get caught in the middle of. Thalia’s smile reaches her eyes even less now that Jason’s gone. Reyna’s attempts at talking to Thalia wither in her throat, and Piper seems more absorbed in making Reyna feel better than resolving the tension between two of New Rome’s praetors. She’s surprisingly nice.

“There’s still eight of us,” Piper says one day to him at the Mess Hall. “If you and Jason don’t go.”

Nico stares at her curiously, wondering how of all the people at Camp Jupiter she could have picked, he got so lucky. Then he remembers that Thalia hasn’t once tried to say Piper’s name and Percy punched their camp leader.

“Leo has to go because someone needs to be able to fix the ship if something happens,” she tells him softly. “What am I supposed to do with a knife and charmspeak?”

She seems to have forgotten the terrifying moment where Annabeth drove a knife into a table. Nico’s uncomfortable. Percy’s finally cooled off with Jason gone—but he’s very much on Thalia’s side. It’s fueled by frustration at Reyna’s deceit and absolute disdain for Annabeth Chase. Nico has desperately been trying to avoid lessons in praetorship from Reyna, but the alternative is watching Thalia mope around.

“Rome was founded by a Child of Aphrodite,” he supplies. “Aeneas. Your role in this impending war is just as important as his was in the Trojan War.”

Piper stares at him thoughtfully. She’s a little bit of an unconventional beauty—in her hippy t-shirts and choppy hair. All of the Children of Venus that he’s known have been gladiator champions that looked handsome without trying. They’d come back caked in mud and blood and somehow, it’d only make them look more attractive.

“Ask Reyna to teach you Roman diplomacy,” Nico suggests. “Then you’ll see how useful a _knife_ and _charmspeak_ are.”

A smile curls against her lips and she kisses him on the cheek, making him feel more awkward. It’s hard to stay impartial when Reyna has clearly advised Piper to treat him with respect and affection.

Somehow, that makes _eight_ drop to _seven_ , and Nico is still in awe that their Son of Neptune can’t stop his quarrels with the Daughter of Athena. He decides not to get into that one, either—part of him is relieved not having to get on a boat with his ex-boyfriend, two bickering demigods, and the months-long unresolved tension between Reyna and Thalia. Apparently Leo’s appearance makes _Hazel_ on edge, too, and Nico only pities Frank.

Finally, the months pass and the Argo II is complete.

(It’d probably be done sooner of Cabin Nine and the Children of Vulcan could stop bickering. Nico has nothing but a million questions for Juno, such as—how on _Gaea_ did she think this was a good plan?)

*

“This suits you.”

“I hate this.” Nico stands in the purple regalia, all of the gold metals he’s earned over the years decorating his chestplate. He’d made a habit out of putting each medal in a box under his bed and now had to remember what order they went in on his person. The cape bellows behind him in the wind, and Nico can’t help but criticize the drag resistance in flying. It turns him into a gaudy, shiny parachute for birds to peck at.

Reyna stares back at him, trying not to laugh.

He stares at himself in the mirror, at his olive complexion and dark hair, then notices that Reyna’s hair still as short as the day they reunited. Which means she was planning on keeping that hairdo for a while. Thalia’s sadness still makes him ache.

The New Romans weren’t necessarily happy at the turbulent change in leadership—Octavian included. Nico’s sure all the simmering their augur has done means that something _bad_ is about to happen. He’s still trying to sway the Roman demigods to his side—and he’s much better at his words than Nico is.

“You’re going to do great,” Reyna tells him, her hand on his shoulder. The photograph she gave him still burns a hole in his back pocket. “Don’t let Octavian intimidate you.”

“He doesn’t intimidate me,” he grumbles. “I just know he’s better than I am. With words.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” she chides. “And if it’s a battle of words you’re worried about, then Piper is here for you.”

On cue, Piper is smiling on the other side of him. It’s hard not to like her. Not when she makes Reyna happy. Which makes it even more awkward and frustrating for Nico to be around.

“It’s gonna suck not having you or Leo here.” Her expression is sad, and Nico does all he can not to roll his eyes. The _worst_ thing about Piper is her friendship with Leo, which makes it harder. Piper is nice otherwise, and Nico never has to be around for that friendship. “I’ll keep him safe.”

Love triangles are as every bit as terrifying and awful as this war with Gaea, Nico decides.

As much as he hates being decked out in praetor regalia, he’d much rather stay in this room than say goodbye.

Hazel gives him a funny look when they meet at the edge of the principia. She stares at him, decked out in all of his purple regalia, and smiles. “You look amazing.”

Nico flushes at her words, uncomfortable with the cape dragging behind him. For a camp named after his father, it really didn’t accommodate him well. Nico has no idea how Superman puts up with it. “You’re going shine on this quest.”

“ _Aww_ , Nico!” Thalia appears out of nowhere, gushing. She stares at him with all the love in the world, and Nico’s face only burns brighter. “I can’t believe I’m going to miss out on you leading camp.”

“I’m backup,” Nico reminds her.

“You’re our mediator in case something goes bad,” Reyna corrects. “And we’re going to miss you a lot.” 

She comes down the steps, and Thalia and she share an awkward look.

Nico really, _really_ doesn’t want to say goodbye. He knows he can’t hide the distress on his face. Nico hugs Hazel first, encouraging her to do great things while on this quest. He knows it’s going to happen. Thalia and Reyna hug him both separately, each murmuring their own words. Reyna’s words are as confident as the ones he gave to Hazel—and she tells him to do great things, too. Thalia holds him so close that Nico has a hard time breathing.

“Your quest on being a good big sister was a success,” Nico promises weakly in her ear. “Just please come back alive.”

He doesn’t want to lose another sister.

“I’d go to hell and back for you, kid,” Thalia assures.

Nico’s heart sinks a little more as Hazel, Reyna, and Thalia all head towards the Argo II. Percy’s goodbye is hard, too.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” Percy says to him softly.

“I’m not,” Nico protests. He’s a little mad. The chestplate is really heavy and he’s pretty sure this cape is already dirty. Maybe he’s a little mad that Percy is going on yet another quest, too. And Reyna is leaving him again so soon. And Thalia is also on a quest for the first time in years. And he has to send Hazel off after all of their lessons together.

Okay. So he’s mad.

Percy throws arms around him.

“ _Ack—_ did you _shower_ this morning?”

“Does the Little Tiber count?”

“ _No_ ,” Nico snaps, and he grimaces. His frustration at the turn of events withers in favor of Percy’s lack of hygiene instead, and part of him is grateful. His heart stutters in his chest and he hugs Percy back. “Promise me you’ll keep them safe.”

“Thalia and Reyna?” Percy smiles behind him, his embrace tight. “You don’t even need to ask.”

Nico sighs in relief. “And Hazel too.”

“And Hazel too.”

Then he watches as Percy turns his back too, to board Argo II.

His first order of business as Praetor di Angelo comes moments later, when the ship aims its cannons at New Rome.

*

Tensions between the Roman and the Greek Demigods were already high while building the Argo II. Nico only needs to gesture at Annabeth and Percy to get his point across. Really, Juno’s idea of reuniting her family is proving to be a shitshow. Piper and he end up spending a lot of time trying to persuade Octavian and the Roman campers not to attack Camp Halfblood.

(He’s suddenly very grateful that he charmed her with the story of Aeneas. Unfortunately, as strong as Piper’s charmspeak is, Octavian is very prepared with Mike Kahale.)

Luckily the only person who could get to Camp Halfblood remotely fast was now on a flying ship headed to Italy.

Percy tries to call them via Iris Message when he can, but each transmission shows them worse off. The bickering doesn’t cease. Whatever caused Leo to shoot at New Rome has only irritated everyone on the ship, and Annabeth and Percy _still_ haven’t found a common ground to keep from wanting to gouge each other’s eyes out. Hazel is shining when the Argo II is in the sky, and Percy is keeping them safe at sea—but everyone is tired.

Nico only wishes he could give good news when Percy calls, but he knows his faults. He’s avoided praetorship because he’s not good with his words. He’s not a leader, and no matter how many people _tell_ him that these skills should be inherent, he can’t believe them.

Not like Reyna is. Not like Percy and Thalia are. Not like Bianca probably was, whose smile was big and happy in the photo that he carries around.

Piper staying with him is only _prolonging_ a war between both camps, but Nico doesn’t know how long they can stall before Gaea awakens.

Percy’s final Iris Message breaks Nico’s heart. He’s covered in monster’s blood and bruises, hair disheveled. Despite the mess, his gaze is focused on Nico. Everything else doesn’t matter.

In the background, Nico can see an equally exhausted Jason Grace, keeled over, pale, and as bony as a skeleton.

The message is twofold. Something about needing help to carry the Athena Parthenos to Camp Halfblood for peace between the Romans and Greeks. Nico vaguely remembers the tale. He almost forgets the reason for the call when Percy tells him the second piece of news.

“Reyna and Thalia,” Percy says, his voice breaking. “They fell into Tartarus.”

Nico’s heart shatters into a million pieces. The tears start to swell in Percy’s eyes, and Nico has _never_ seen him cry.

Percy grits his teeth, his jaw clenching. “I’m sorry, Nico. I couldn’t protect them—”

“Don’t.” Nico hears himself cut the Son of Poseidon off, but it’s numb in his mouth. “It was dumb of me to make you promise that. We’re at war here.”

“But—”

“I’m coming,” Nico continues. “And we’re going to pray that they can close the doors from the other side.”

Percy stares back at him, surprised. Maybe even a little proud. In a different scenario, Nico probably would have laughed—this boy helped raise him for the last five or so years. Where else was he going to develop his sense of devotion?

“Okay,” Percy agrees over the IM.

Okay.

On his way out of the principia, Nico runs into Piper and explains their update. She looks as distraught as he feels. Maybe more.

“They fell into Tartarus,” Piper echoes, her voice just a little hoarse. “Together.”

Nico can only imagine how the events unfolded. He has no doubt they clung onto each other the entire way down. They’ve reunited after so many months apart—and maybe emotionally, too. “I need to go over there and help them. Can you hold down the fort until I get back?”

Piper smiles weakly, and Nico feels bad for asking a daughter of love to have to push her own heartbreak aside. “As much as a graecus like me can.”

Despite all the awkward tension, Nico can’t help but give her a hug before he leaves.

He gathers as many preparations as he can, travels out the Caldecott Tunnel, and takes flight in the air.

For the first time in a long time, Nico prays to his father for a safe passage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This one came out as a doozy since it's just a vague retelling of the books. Had to smush Son of Neptune and Mark of Athena together! Here's some theyna art that the lovely ephemeren has [made](https://ephemeren.tumblr.com/post/618553609850929152/he-may-seem-rough-around-the-edges-but-you-wont). Please let me know your thoughts on this one, I'm having fun writing it!! 8)


	4. choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thought occurs to Jason. He leans over the railing—and ducks just in time before a rock can hit him in the head. “Hazel, blind them.”
> 
> “What?” Hazel blinks in surprise. “But how would I—”
> 
> “With lightning,” Jason finishes. “Bianca used to do it all the time in Capture the Flag. She’d blind the Apollo Cabin and they wouldn’t be able to shoot arrows at us.”
> 
> Hazel seems to consider this, but the reluctance is still on her face. “But what if they still make contact?”
> 
> “They won’t,” Percy cuts in, a realization of his own coming. “They’ll be so taken aback by the surge of light that the hurdles will be weaker. Blow it out of the way with wind.”
> 
> Jason and Hazel stare at him, surprised by the change in tone. Jason’s pretty sure that Percy hates him almost as much as Annabeth does.
> 
> However, sea green eyes are firm. “It’s what Nico and I do during the War Games.”

If it’s not the nightmares that keep Jason up, then it’s the constant array of monster attacks. Or the screaming matches between the five remaining of the Seven—Percy and Annabeth in particular, while Leo keeps insisting that the ship can’t take any more hits. They don’t have Thalia to help improve the imperial gold shields, and Jason isn’t adept in metal. Annabeth can hardly look at him. Percy looks ready to punch him all over again—and he knows part of the frustration is from having Thalia and Reyna in the pits of Tartarus, but the other part is definitely just to punch him again.

And if it’s not reality, then it’s dreams of the pits of Tartarus, where Jason went days without eating, and hallucinated Luke’s body next to him, coercing him into picking up a knife and ending his life. Coercing him to tell him his thoughts, like before. Admit that he’s scared and submit to fear. Stroking his hair, like Luke used to, when he was a little boy having nightmares about Kronos. Bianca’s voice would always be in his other ear, telling him not to submit. To be strong, and stop _giving in_ to Luke, like he almost did before.

He suppresses those thoughts with the ones after the First War—of blood on his hands, of Luke’s handsome smile.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have a lot of time to dwell on his past or the fact that Tartarus has only given him new nightmares.

_SLAM_

_SLAM_

_SLAM_

Jason holds his breath with each impact, trying to ignore how familiar the quaking felt to canons, and rolls out of his pile of hay in the pegasi stable. The alternative is closing his eyes and thinking about Luke’s pale skin and gold eyes, from Kronos’s control. He’s stopped looking in the mirror these days. His own pale face and bony jaw reminds him of Luke, too: the bags under his eyes and the shaking regret that would appear when Jason would try to convince Luke to come back to them.

Uncle Gleeson had offered his cabin to Jason but sleeping in weeks old laundry didn’t sound very appealing. Besides—if he did that, the old satyr would tell him to punch his feelings into the night. Usually Grover is there to remind their uncle of Jason’s newfound decision after slaying Kronos.

Except between Tartarus and the amount of _SLAMSLAMSLAM_ he’s hearing, Jason doesn’t think he’s going to have a choice soon.

He makes his way to the front of the ship, where he sees both Hazel and Percy, two neutral parties, conversing quietly.

“…how are we going to get through this mountain range?” Hazel says softly, her voice shriveling in frustration.

“It’s because there’s a child of Hades onboard,” Percy grumbles under his breath.

“Sorry,” Jason offers behind them. Percy yelps immediately, while Hazel isn’t phased in the slightest.

“Don’t _do_ that,” Percy snaps, the irritation evident in his voice. It reminds Jason of when he did it to Nico all of those months ago.

In reality, Jason knows it isn’t the best choice to sneak up on a bunch of sleep deprived demigods. Hazel looks back at him, guilt flashing in her eyes as she realizes he overheard their conversation. He thinks nothing of it. “What’s this about my presence calling a problem?”

Percy studies him carefully, the bags under his eyes apparent. Percy looks worse off than Jason feels about Thalia and Reyna falling into Tartarus.

And Jason would rather fall into Tartarus all over again, alone and suffering, than live with the miserable reality that his older sister is now in there in his place.

The image is still fresh in Jason’s mind, after he came to. Thalia and Reyna clinging onto each other, desperate to keep the other balanced. His sister looked at Reyna with all of the desperation in the world, absolutely refusing to let go. Then she made him promise to take the ship to the House of Hades, to close the door on the other side.

His heart burns just thinking about it. Thalia _begged_ him to stay safe, and now she was wandering around Tartarus at the brink of death with Reyna. Just the mention of either one sends Percy spiraling. Annabeth keeps trying to move the quest forward, with Frank and Hazel hesitantly following her lead, but each mention of their name just seems to hurt Percy. It hurts Jason, too.

“The numina montanum,” Percy explains, still recovering from Jason’s sneak attack. His voice is hoarse, like it’s fighting his consciousness. A sigh of frustration leaves Percy’s throat and—suddenly, another boulder slams into the ship. Hazel squeaks, yanking at the railing of the boat, while Percy tries to steady her. Jason wobbles, desperately trying to keep his balance.

“Earth spirits,” Jason translates. Or ourae in Greek. “They’re not fans of Children of Hades.”

“No,” Percy agrees, and he glares. Jason swears that the glance is so menacing that he sees gold. “They’re really not.”

The tension between the two of them has been tiring. Jason doesn’t want to give Percy another reason to punch him in the nose again, but between his unending nightmares about Luke and keeping a promise to Thalia about guiding everyone to the House of Hades—it’s a lot. “If Thalia were here—”

“If Thalia were here, she’d actually fight,” Percy snaps. “I’ve seen her fling schist that would make the numina montanum beg for mercy.”

Jason’s pretty sure Percy _actually_ means schist and not the alternative. His jaw tightens and he stares back at Percy with annoyance.

“I think what Jason means is,” Hazel says quickly, “if we had _two_ children of Pluto and Hades on board, then we would be in even more danger.”

“Would we?” Percy grumbles under his breath, his tone bitter.

“We would,” Hazel snaps back. The airiness in her voice from when Jason first met her is gone. She’s tired, and the gold of her gaze is dim. They’re nowhere near Gaea, and Jason can hear the exhaustion in her tone. “Leo has been trying to get out of this mountain range for days, but the ourae keep finding us.”

“That’s what happens when you’re flying in a blinding gold ship,” Percy mutters again. He seems to hate that this so-called _Argo II_ even exists.

A thought occurs to Jason. He leans over the railing—and ducks just in time before a rock can hit him in the head. “Hazel, blind them.”

“What?” Hazel blinks in surprise. “But how would I—”

“With lightning,” Jason finishes. “Bianca used to do it all the time in Capture the Flag. She’d blind the Apollo Cabin and they wouldn’t be able to shoot arrows at us.”

Hazel seems to consider this, but the reluctance is still on her face. “But what if they still make contact?”

“They won’t,” Percy cuts in, a realization of his own coming. “They’ll be so taken aback by the surge of light that the hurdles will be weaker. Blow it out of the way with wind.”

Jason and Hazel stare at him, surprised by the change in tone. Jason’s pretty sure that Percy hates him almost as much as Annabeth does.

However, sea green eyes are firm. “It’s what Nico and I do during the War Games.”

“I haven’t summoned something that big before,” Hazel confesses. Jason isn’t sure what her quest with Reyna and Piper entailed, but suddenly she looks smaller. “Not even in practice with Nico.”

“You’ve got this,” Jason urges, his voice soft.

And again, Jason is surprised that Percy is willing to cooperate with him in that very moment. “He’s right, you do.”

Hazel looks between both of them, still absorbing how much both Jason and Percy know about the di Angelo siblings— _her_ siblings—and nods in agreement. She closes her eyes, and suddenly the stars are shrouded with dark clouds.

“You can do this,” Jason whispers to her. “Just imagine a current in your arms. You’re a lightning rod, but you’re also a conduit.”

“You’ll have to command the winds the _moment_ a rock heads our way,” Percy says. “It’s a sensation in your gut. Think about it like—like—”

“Like breathing,” Jason finishes for him. They both share a meaningful look, and Percy quickly averts his gaze.

The thunder booms above them, clapping like giant footsteps. Jason can’t help but clutch the railing again, feeling the familiar sensation of electricity from all of those years of Capture the Flag. It’s powerful and terrifying to be in this domain—where the sky is filled with darkness and yet he has no ability to shadowtravel without a solid surface.

A ribbon of lightning rams into the mountain range just as an ourae flings a rock at them. Hazel has just enough time to react to slap a hand through the air, and a wind current follows, pushing it back into the mountain range and full force and causing an avalanche.

“Oh my gods, Hazel!” Jason grins victoriously just as Percy offers her a high five.

Except she isn’t done. Leo turns the ship over the narrowest part of the mountain range, and suddenly winds are bellowing against the sails.

“What are you doing?” Percy shouts.

“Getting us out of danger faster,” Hazel explains, and the smile on her face is matched with a newfound confidence. Out of the ruins of exhaustion is light in her voice—and victory. Jason can tell she can’t wait to tell Nico about her feat.

Except—all of a sudden, Percy is yanking Hazel by the hair.

Hazel shrieks, the winds pummeling into the boat instead of helping, and whirls around. “Percy—!”

Jason sees the glimpse of gold again in Percy’s eyes, and he reacts. He reaches for Percy’s sword bearing hand, his grip much stronger than Hazel’s nimble fingers. “Percy, _stop.”_

“What are you doing?” Percy snaps, and the venom in his tone is haunting. His body is suddenly immobile at Jason’s command, physically frozen. Percy _stops_ everything—his arms, his eyes, his breathing—

And if Jason hadn’t been so weak coming out of Tartarus, maybe he would have been able to catch what was wrong _days_ ago. He stares back at the chilling gold eyes that glower at him and relinquishes his grip on Percy’s hand.

“Percy,” Jason says again, his pitch as dark as death. “ _Kneel_.”

*

On Jason’s insistence, Hazel calls a meeting for the remaining five of seven demigods and Uncle Gleeson. Percy is still shouting obscenities behind Jason’s head as he’s ushered into the food hall against his will, while Hazel looks horrified by the turn of events. She keeps touching her hair where Percy dared to yank it—and at the very least, Percy looks ashamed to have lunged at her.

Frank, Leo, and Annabeth are all in different moods when they’re called to the long table—but one thing that’s clear is how on edge they are. Smoke is coming out of Leo’s ears, like the coal in his chest is on its last pieces, while Frank has dragged a pillow into the room. Annabeth looks like she’s trying to stay wide awake, but the lines of exhaustion under her eyes are as gray as her irises. Uncle Gleeson is nestled tightly with a teddy bear, snoring happily under the table.

When Jason demands Percy to _sit_ , Percy’s body moves before his head does, and he practically throws himself into the seat. All three sleepy demigods are suddenly wide awake and sober.

“Jason,” Annabeth starts carefully—his name on her tongue almost feels foreign now. It makes his skin crawl. “Why is _Seaweed Brain_ over there actually listening to you?”

“Don’t listen to him!” Percy shouts, his voice even more furious than usual. “He’s a traitor, he’ll—”

“Cover your mouth,” Jason commands, and Percy immediately slaps both palms over his face. Albeit—probably more violently than Jason would have expected. Percy suddenly looks dizzy from the impact. Then, Jason turns his head to inspect the rest of the crew.

He's stupid. He’s so _stupid._

Frank stare back at him, and Jason knows his own body is pulsing dramatically. It’s always been an ironic sensation—the closer that he feels to the dead, the livelier his heart feels.

“Wh-Why is Percy doing that?” Frank stammers.

“He’s possessed,” Jason explains, but he doesn’t pull away from his scrutiny. The rest of the crew looks at him, bewildered. Annabeth’s eyes widen, and the indication is clear on her face. Then suddenly, she’s on her feet with her knife, and Leo’s hands ignite with fire. “Show yourself. Unarmed.”

Both Leo and Annabeth freeze. Their bodies, along with Percy’s, suddenly all ripple at the same time—and a wisp of smoke suddenly comes out of their mouths. Eidolons stare right back at Jason from the ceiling, their cackling as chilling as every ambient sound in Tartarus. Jason curls his hands at his sides and stares at them, tired.

If he’d been at full strength, he would have noticed them in an instant.

“What—what the _Pluto_ is that?” Percy stammers all of a sudden. The ferocity from earlier is gone, his skin pale.

“Tell me what you’re doing here,” Jason demands firmly. His gaze doesn’t leave their gold eyes.

So they talk, in their steady tone. With the command from a Son of Hades, their voices are a halting, haunting English that explain that they’ve been onboard the Argo II for _weeks_ now, worsening the relationships between everybody on board. It was surprisingly easy, they say, with how everybody hated each other anyway: from Percy’s anger at Leo for blasting New Rome, to Annabeth and Percy’s hate, to Leo and Hazel (awkwardly) defending Jason’s honor.

They even shout obscenities at him, because although they are at the mercy of the Son of the Dead, their loyalty is to Gaea. Then they shout about how she promised them life past the Doors of Death, and how she’ll rise.

Jason has to resist the urge of clutching his heart at the words _life_ and _Doors of Death_. Nothing is alive in Tartarus. Not even the sensation of Luke’s fingers through his hair, or Bianca’s encouraging voice in his ears.

“You’re going to leave,” Jason says. “And you’re _never_ going to hurt anyone on this ship ever again. Understood?”

The eidolons groan at his tone and begin to fade.

“Wait—” Jason shuffles over to the kitchen for a magical plate and summons three chocolate chip muffins. “Take these.”

Each eidolon suddenly gasps with glee and scarf them down. Their dark haze disappears with a glitter, leaving five bemused demigods and a sleeping satyr in their wake.

Finally, Jason’s shoulders slack, his heartbeat coming to a lull, and the calm ambiance returns to the ship. Not one boulder shakes it.

“Is that enough of a fight for you?” Hazel suddenly asks.

Percy wrinkles his nose and sinks in his seat.

*

Sometime later in the evening, when Jason is laying in a heap of hay, Annabeth appears at the edge of the stable. She doesn’t look at him—just the set up for himself. The ratty shoes from long, agonizing treks through Tartarus. His tattered leather jacket nestled tightly in the corner. His fourteen camp beads dangle against his chest compared to her nine. A tenth one would be against her collarbone if she hadn’t gone missing shortly before the end of the summer.

Jason keeps his gaze on the ceiling, a lump swelling in the back of his throat.

“Can’t sleep?” her voice echoes across the stables, tone dead.

There are too many nightmares, whether he’s awake or not.

She takes his penchant for silence as a cue to keep talking. “That was smart of you about the eidolons. They’ve been aboard this ship for weeks and no one noticed a thing.”

“Someone at camp thought it’d be a good thing to learn about all the aspects of my father,” Jason responds hoarsely. He’s reminded of cool summer evenings, sitting under pine trees at Halfblood Hill and eating watermelon while a nine-year-old daughter of Athena, who itched to go on a quest more than he did, would hail tales of Hades in order to prep for the war. She was far more factual about it than Grover, who trembled at the sight of a dead fly.

For a moment, her gray eyes flicker, as though considering those words. They’re a long way away from summer nights. They have been, since Luke left. She hasn’t tried to reach out to him once since she got her memories back. Jason thinks Annabeth would actually _rather_ argue with Percy Jackson than strike up a conversation like this.

“I should have noticed sooner,” Jason admits quietly. “They know how to adapt to the person they inhabit immediately. Their thoughts. How to fight like them. I’ve never been possessed before but I—”

“You feel your body moving and you can’t do anything about it,” Annabeth says, and her voice drops bitterly. “You hear your voice but you’re not the one in control. All you can do is watch in the passenger’s seat while the eidolon is revving the engine. Against all else, you’re _stuck._ ”

He considers her words and feels worse. Annabeth had not only been taken out of her comfort zone of Camp Halfblood and lose her memories, but her own body had been used against her. Jason hears the trembles in her tone and knows she’s angry. Frustrated. Scared, even. It’s a familiar sensation for him.

“I know what it’s like,” he says, his voice quiet. “Being stuck doing something you don’t want to do.”

Usually he’s more careful about the words that he chooses. It’s likely the exhaustion—from days of unending unrest, with the voices of Tartarus hissing in his ears and his throat _burning_ from the River Phlegethon. If he’s still long enough, then his body feels like a corpse, and he watches this pale, pathetic version of himself just shrivel.

In the back of Jason’s mind, he just knows this is another thing he’s _stuck_ doing. Being a part of another war, no matter how his body trembles and no matter how much blood he sees when he closes his eyes. Who’s going to do it, if he doesn’t?

The words rattle Annabeth, the wound as fresh as the dawn of Jason’s birthday. She slaps her hand against the wall, and the sound reverberates violently. The storm in her eyes is as violent as a hurricane, and all monotony in her voice is just replaced with pain.

“ _You had a choice_ ,” Annabeth snaps at him.

If Jason closes his eyes, he can imagine her saying the same exact words back in New York. With bruises and scrapes from days of battling over her face, and tears streaming below her eyes. He forces himself to keep them open and looks away instead.

She waits for him to respond. One agonizingly slow heartbeat. Two agonizingly slow heartbeats.

Finally, she leaves, upset, and Jason can breathe again.

*

A storm spirit in the form of a horse appears at the end of the ship, beckoning Hazel. She takes one look at it, starry eyed for the first time in days, and convinces the crew that she needs to follow it. There’s no glance at Jason or anyone else on the ship for approval—she just knows she needs to go. They anchor the ship nearby, and Jason finds himself trying to monitor her from above.

To his surprise, Percy comes up to him. He looks refreshed—as refreshed as you can be after being possessed by a ghost for weeks. His gaze is tentative as it inspects Jason, but they stand beside each other, keeping careful watch over Hazel. Silent.

Jason doesn’t miss the way that Percy’s grip tightens over the railing once more.

He sucks in a breath, watching Percy warily from the corner of his eye. Percy’s gaze is harsh and hard. It’s different from the one he met months ago with the carefree smile and an arm slung around Nico di Angelo. There’s no longer a smile—only pain.

Jason hasn’t the slightest idea how close Percy and Hazel really are—he sees how nervous Hazel is to be around the Son of Neptune after Percy grabbed her the other day. Percy seems even more frustrated at himself, even if he was possessed. He seems more on edge every time Hazel has to go into danger, or when she has to fight—like when she went with Leo to retrieve the Archimedes spheres.

“Why didn’t you defend yourself?” Percy finally asks him. His gaze doesn’t leave the mist. It searches for a small silhouette of Hazel with Jason, even if they can’t find it.

“I’m useless in the air,” Jason points out. If they threw him overboard right now, then there would be no shadows for him to travel with. He’d be powerless. “Zeus isn’t the biggest fan of me. He’d shoot me down immediately.”

Percy stares at him, his lips shrinking into a small line. He tilts his head. There’s no humor to his expression, but frustration and confusion. “I meant, why didn’t you punch me back?”

“Why would I?” Jason knows that he deserved it, after weeks of deceit.

After weeks of awkward conversations with Reyna, who insisted on waiting and biding their time until Annabeth appeared. She came to Camp Halfblood and took the reins, dragging Jason with her. He has to admit that her presence was calming. She was steady at the idea of another war while he dreaded it. She never saw him as a threat—and kept insisting that his name was worth every bit of praise that it was given. Thinking back on it now, he wonders if she only thought that way because of the high standard she held Thalia, too.

“Because I _punched_ you,” Percy protests, and his gaze narrows.

Jason’s nose twitches at the thought of it, and he resists the urge to touch his face. “It’s not like I _liked_ it.”

Again, Percy’s demeanor falters. It’s frustrated from weeks on end, alternating between land and sea. Jason thinks that the Argo II is in safe hands between Hazel and Percy, but the grimness on Percy’s face is a permanent stain ever since Thalia and Reyna. He keeps pushing past it, burying his fear with focus. It dawned on Jason when they met how powerful Percy was, but he’s seeing the result of all of that power latched on with years of formal discipline from Legion. Percy has lived, breathed, and fought in this demigod life, and he’s trying to step up and be that leader _now_.

“Hazel has a quest under her belt and plenty others,” Jason offers quietly. “You don’t need to hover.”

Unsurprisingly, Percy peels his head back and studies Jason. It’s the same demeanor he had earlier when they coached Hazel to use her powers.

“Nico would be proud of her,” Jason offers as an olive branch.

“He would.” Percy warms at the name by at least a fraction. “Would Bianca?”

Bianca’s name almost sounds strange on his lips. Jason has been met with so much protest about bringing her up that he’s treaded carefully. But for a moment, his heart melts, and he can’t help how it hurts. “Bianca would have been much better at this.”

“What? At teaching her?”

“All of it.” At fulfilling the prophecy, at uniting both camps.

Still, Percy takes in his expression. He’s awfully introspective. “You two were close.”

“Bianca was the only other Big Three demigod at camp,” Jason points out. “Of course we were.”

“Can you tell me about her?”

Jason peers back at him and is met with somber eyes. He wonders how long Percy has been wanting to ask. Thalia had asked about Bianca the first night—after Nico di Angelo’s angered look told him to drop the subject. When his sister asked, she had a look on her face that was dire. It was _important_ that Thalia knew.

When Luke left, Bianca always knew how to ease tensions between Annabeth and him. Her dying marked the end of any support system that he had. Grover was too busy with the Council of Cloven Elders. Annabeth and he couldn’t carry on a conversation for longer than a minute, and neither one of them were ever happy before, during, or after those talks.

He doesn’t know if it shows on his face. If Jason thinks about Bianca long enough, then he gets angry again, and then he feels guilty. Her leaving with the Huntresses was _her_ choice and slaying Kronos was always his destiny. It had to be.

“How was she? After the Lotus Casino?” Percy asks when Jason is quiet for too long.

“Lost,” Jason says, echoing the same sentiment that he did when Thalia asked. He tells Percy about how after the casino collapsed, Bianca searched for days for her brother, but couldn’t find him. An eagle roosted next to her and guided her to Camp Halfblood. When Jason found her at the border of camp, it was truly the first time he ever felt a heartbeat about to fade out of existence. He’d never seen someone actually reject ambrosia before. Jason didn’t even know her name for the first week of camp—all she would do was curl into a ball and cry while he held her hand.

He tells Percy about the Bianca who insisted on trying to adapt to the modern world and go to school and make friends. She found a lot of pain as a Daughter of Zeus. Monsters knew her scent too well. And just when she felt _normal_ , her friends at school would say something that made her feel weird and out of place.

For the first time since climbing about, Percy has smile after that last bit of information. A sad one. His hands curl, and he bows his head. “She had as much trouble as I did before I found Camp Jupiter.”

“She had her happy moments,” Jason assures. “But they weren’t the same. Not without…”

“Not without Nico,” Percy finishes for him, his voice empty. “I get that.”

Bianca used to tell stories about how sweet and affectionate Nico di Angelo was. How those big blue eyes would just light up when he could talk about something he adored—like pirate ships or Mythomagic. She regretted ever thinking he was annoying—ever wanting to be away, and _alone_. Jason grew up without siblings, but the way Bianca described having one made him envious. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t inspecting Nico closely to see that smile Bianca spent years describing. 

“All of those years, going from school to school, wondering if I really was a bad kid that all of my teachers said I was—” Percy mumbles angrily. “It _pales_ in comparison to Nico. He lost his sister, his mom, and his whole world at the age of ten. It’s the same with Thalia. Just… _years_ lost in the Lotus Casino because she took one wrong turn. Even when I thought I had no one in my corner, I had my mom.”

His expression softens and his gaze remains unwavering towards Hazel.

“And every moment I don’t have my mom, I have Thalia, Reyna, and Nico. I don’t _hate_ being as far away from her as much,” Percy says, his voice rough. It sounds like the day it did when he IMed Nico. Jason can only assume Percy is thinking about her now. But his voice tightens again. “Except I couldn’t keep my promise, and Thalia and Reyna are in danger.”

“Hazel’s going to be okay,” Jason says suddenly.

Again, Percy peers back at him, taken aback.

“You can’t hover over her with Reyna and Thalia gone,” Jason says again, and he tries to keep his voice gentle. “It’s just going to cause more in-fighting in the cabin and stress everyone out even more.”

Percy soaks his words in—and to Jason’s surprise—laughs. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“I…don’t...?”

“You’ll deny up and down that you’re some sort of leader, but you’re observing every relationship on board. This boat wouldn’t even exist if you didn’t meddle and bring Leo in. Leo told _you_ that he can produce fire and he never told Nico.” Percy stares at him, and with each word, the amusement in his voice is betrayed with a tired look. “You’re not some meek demigod that got caught in this war. You _know_ things.”

“Well, yeah.” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together, confused. “I could probably get you on Annabeth’s good side, too.”

To his surprise, the suggestion looks like a godsend in Percy’s eyes. Percy’s gaze widens for a second, impractically big, and then he looks reluctant. “Go on.”

The edge of Jason’s lip curls. There’s a little bit of mischief from the outings Percy and he used to have before that punch to the face. “Try chariots.”

After all of the strife and disagreement between the two demigods, Percy looks desperate for a solution. Eidolons or not, the discourse Annabeth has with Percy is _very_ real. She’s as traditionally into Greek tales as Reyna was to Roman myths.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” Percy says finally, after weighing the words in his favor. “Or trust you.”

“I know,” Jason replies. He knows he’s lost trust from a lot of people after this secret. Including Thalia, no matter how she tried to smile at him in the months leading up to the Argo II’s departure.

“You’d be so much easier to hate if you’d just punch me back,” Percy grumbles. “Thalia would.”

“What was that?” Jason asks, bemused.

“Nothing,” Percy snaps at him, though he’s still clearly musing the thought of how to woo Annabeth with one of the tales where Poseidon and Athena actually work together.

They don’t get along, but they both visibly heave a sigh of relief when the mist parts, revealing Hazel as its master.

*

The Argo II is quieter after that. Not nearly as much arguing. Meetings seem to be going better between the remaining five, and Hazel and Frank seem to be in better spirits. Annabeth still avoids him, which is a blessing all in itself—but he relishes in the fact that Percy and she seem to be on better terms. If anything, Annabeth’s infinite wisdom and Percy’s creativity in solutions have helped reach new horizons.

Annabeth has coaxed Frank as a fellow Child of War, while Percy does his best to earn Hazel’s trust back. Hazel comes to visit Jason on occasion, but the light in her eyes is still dim. All of the expectations of being a Child of Zeus, gifted with a new life, feels as menacing as coal. Jason has experience in that. Leo buries himself in machines and smooths out every dent in the Argo II. Jason thinks that Vulcan would be proud about the strides Leo has made—Legionnaire, camper, or not.

Jason gets the pleasure of hearing Percy’s usual Manhattan accent fumble with Italian phonetics and confidently lead Frank and Hazel through Venice.

“We are so doomed,” Annabeth mumbles tiredly, after hearing Percy say he knows _which_ _bad words_ _to watch out for_ in Italian. It’s affectionately this time.

Frank reappears, blessed by Mars, with a steadier confidence worthy of the centurion title he’d been promoted to after Nico was promoted to praetor. Hazel’s smile is solid from the smooth mission—and Annabeth actually high fives Percy back. Even Leo cracks a joke at Uncle Gleeson’s expense, and the ship feels lighter since Reyna and Thalia.

Not too long after that, Nico di Angelo makes his way onboard.

*

Leo announces it over the intercom.

_“HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, SON OF JUPITER, NICO DI ANGELO HAS MADE HIS GRAND ENTRANCE ABOARD.”_

Jason jostles out of his heap of hay at the high shriek. He shadowtravels to the edge of the ship, where he’s met with the sight of Praetor di Angelo in all his glory.

The imperial gold armor gleams under the sunlight and small pinnacles of light beam against olive skin. The purple cape bellows behind Nico, tattered from days of travel, and his gladius is parked at his side. Medals decorate Nico’s chestplate, but a scowl adorns his face as both Leo and he look at each other dead in the eye.

Nico turns his gaze to Jason, who stands six feet away under the shadows of the mast. Blue eyes take him in for a fleeting moment—and then they look towards the other demigods who make their way above the ship by foot. Nico’s eyes soften—and then Percy barrels into him.

Despite his title as a Son of Jupiter, Nico’s stature is so thin and lithe that Percy’s brunt of weight could probably throw him off board. Nico’s expression melts, his feet fluttering awkwardly beneath him, and he chokes under Percy’s grip. Feathers fall out of his hair.

Percy reels back for a moment, and a tired, happy smile appears across his face. “You got here fast.”

“The birds helped.” Nico coughs again, and another feather comes out.

“You let the birds help?” A laugh falls from Percy’s mouth, and it’s warm. The tone makes Jason think of the two boys out at the Little Tiber, tossing rocks. Percy hugs Nico again, and this time the grip is tighter. His shoulders slacken, as he’s finally able to relax for the first time in weeks.

What was a fleeting glance for Jason is now a look of concern for Percy, and Nico hugs back. He looks over to Hazel, who looks ready to cry, and smiles sympathetically at her. Frank, who had been faulting to Annabeth’s lead with her guidance as a child of war, looks relieved that Praetor di Angelo is on board. Even Annabeth looks content to have Nico there—and Jason can’t help but wonder what she thinks about Bianca di Angelo’s little brother.

Jason has no idea how fast Nico tried to fly to the Argo II, but the bags under Nico’s eyes lets him know that the Son of Jupiter was _determined_ to make it aboard.

He tries not to stare too much. While Bianca had been a driving force in Jason’s life since they were both twelve, Nico di Angelo couldn’t be any less interested in him, so long as he kept peace with Thalia. And—after a heartbreaking reunion with Thalia, who stared at Jason as she dangled at the entrance of Tartarus with desperation and fear in her eyes, he was too frozen by fear and exhaustion to move. Jason can only guess how much more Nico would hate him.

So, he chalks Nico di Angelo as one more demigod that won’t trust him aboard and prepares to slip back in the shadows.

Nico’s grin is innocuous as Percy babbles in his ear and Hazel catches him up to speed more coherently.

As Jason fads back into darkness, he faintly hears the Son of Jupiter say, “Whoa, Frank—how’d _that_ happen?”

*

Later that night, Jason accidentally falls asleep.

He sees himself in a sea of dead bodies—of campers that he grew up with. They pool at his feet at heaps, and Jason sees the battle wounds. Dismembered limbs, uneven bones—shattered celestial bronze armor.

Blood.

Lots of blood.

He takes one step back, and his foot lands with a sickening _squelch._ Jason turns his head a different direction, and his hand is suddenly heavy. When he looks down, he’s met with the sight of his first sword—doused in red and _dripping._

A gasp leaves Jason’s throat—and the mere heave of his chest causes the body closest to him rattle. Jason drops the blade with a sickening _clack_ and he hears his heart trembling against his chest. Every _pulse_ of his chest seems to make the corpses dance—each and every time. Each thrum is met with writhing limbs, and Jason can’t find his words. Can’t find his breath.

He sees a dead Silena Beauregard moving in the disarray, her once glowing skin now pale and rotting, with dried tears in her eyes. There’s a hole where her heart should be, as she tries to find Beckendorf in the afterlife. He sees Michael Yew, trying to use his teeth to nock and arrow and draw a string while his dominant hand is on the ground, writhing.

Jason sees himself on the battlefield, with his dying friends. There’s coldness in his voice, as cold as death itself, as he demands that they get up and fight. They fought until their last breath, but they weren’t going to finish until they were _done._

They were going to die over and over again in this war, until Jason could slay Kronos. Until he could finally put this chapter behind him and be _done_ with Luke.

Off in the distance suddenly shines with a bright, painful light. Even in death, Jason wishes he could see it as warm.

Luke stares back at him as he always does, his body sickeningly gold. Jason wants to remember the Luke that he knew before: with the elfish smile that made him look like he was up to no good and the blue eyes that used to catch the clouds in them.

Not the one with the dragon scar.

Not the one that offered a hand to him, when small jests of _I hate the gods_ turned into _I wish I could kill them._ When Luke stopped trying to be light and stared at Jason with a darkness more menacing than any shadow.

Jason would rather go to Tartarus again than get lost in that smile.

He’d rather go to Tartarus again than look at the way Kronos possessed Luke and made that smile Jason loved turn to poison.

Even now, when dream Luke reaches out, Jason feels the back of his throat dry. He feels the temptation at the tips of fingers and watches his own hand rise.

_Come with me_ , that smile says, even now. _And you’ll never have to feel alone again._

He should be too small to remember it, but he’s had dreams about the day Alecto led him to Camp Halfblood. How he’d grown to love her in place of his own mother, with her long claws, bared fangs, and leathery bat wings. When she showed her teeth, most people saw a scary monster. Jason saw a parent’s smile.

_But I thought we’d be at camp together_ , he had said in a small, sad voice.

Chiron took one look at her from the other side of the border, and she put on her bravest face. There wasn’t much that differentiated them—Chiron was renowned for training heroes, but he hadn’t the slightest idea how to train Jason how to shadowtravel. Chiron was never at King Hades’s side, watching how the realm of the Underworld worked. Chiron saw her as a threat, and Alecto saw him as a joke.

So Jason was supposed to _shun_ being a Son of Hades, and still accept at the age of two that someday, he may be deciding the fate of the Gods as a Child of the Big Three. Hades didn’t even have a cabin at Camp Halfblood, and he was supposed to train as a hero when they hardly knew what to do with him. Dionysus took one look at a child, declared he didn’t want to change any diapers, and told the satyrs to deal with Jason.

He felt alone without a mother, and alone without someone to help him with his powers.

Luke listened to every one of his thoughts—every night—and helped him with his nightmares.

It should have been _easier_ to say no, when Luke said he wanted to destroy Olympus, stone by stone.

It should have been _easier_ for Jason to stand his ground and _know_ that overthrowing the gods was a bad idea.

Except Luke knew all of Jason’s thoughts and spent years smiling at him with those blue eyes that reflected the clouds, and just _knew_ him. Luke accepted him as Jason Grace and as Hades’s son, who was unfortunate enough to be cursed with the fate of the gods and still unimportant in the eyes of the Twelve Olympians.

So in every dream, when Luke looks at Jason Grace, _Son of Hades_ , and not just the Chosen One, Jason’s still tempted to reach out with his hand.

_Can you ask your dad to send me to Elysium?_ Luke had asked on Jason’s birthday. He almost sounded like himself.

Death didn’t compromise. Death was fair, and no one could cheat death. But in that moment, on the dawn of his sixteenth birthday after channeling the zenith of his father’s powers, Jason desperately wanted to say yes. Luke always knew how to unravel him with the sound of his voice—it was why this war was so _hard._ Annabeth couldn’t look him in the eye after he reanimated corpses of fallen heroes and fallen monsters with the thrumming of his own heartbeat. She looked him, pleading. If they could get Luke back, it’d be the one good thing to come out of all this strife. For them, at least.

But as Jason grew into his father’s son that day with his powers, so did his judgment. He needed to bury this hold that Luke Castellan had on his heart and also bitterly remember, that Luke was the _first_ person that was fascinated that he was a son of Hades.

_Too many people have died, Luke_ , he’d said, and his own heart died that day, too. _You chose this._

In that free moment, when Annabeth turned to Jason to beg for Luke’s freedom—after Jason had give him the knife to slay Kronos—

Kronos saw two demigods that loved Luke Castellan so much that they both faltered at the face of evil—and lunged with the knife towards Annabeth. Jason, who’d been taught to handle a sword since the age of two, saw red and _attacked._

Then blood. _More_ blood.

Annabeth screaming.

“You had a choice!” she sobbed. “He had a choice!”

Jason didn’t have a choice.

He didn’t.

_He didn’t have a choice._

Maybe Kronos wasn’t lunging at her. Maybe Luke wanted to say goodbye. Maybe there was a choice.

He reaches out for the hand across the sea of corpses, his heart tremoring in his chest with a violent pulse. Luke smiles at him, in the warm welcoming way that Annabeth never saw on quiet evenings in the Hermes Cabin, while Jason sobbed in his chest as a little boy, desperate for the nightmares to go way. No one smiles at _him_ anymore. Thalia is the first person in a long time who stared at him with love in her eyes as a little brother _and_ as Hades’s son, but she’s in the darkest depths of hell, and that’s Jason’s fault, too.

Luke’s arm detaches from his body when their hands touch. Kronos’s disgusting, creepy voice comes out of Luke’s mouth, making the howl of pain even more inhumane. A sea of red blinds Jason _—blood_ , staining his face, his chest, and his armor. Red stains his fingers.

He looks between his hand—left and right—and with each sway of his head, his sword and Annabeth’s knife keeps reappearing in his fists. Jason drops them, and he can _feel_ the mountain of bodies just staring at him, full of sorrow and pity. He can _feel_ the looks that his friends at Camp Halfblood gave him, when at the drop of a breath, the corpses of their dead siblings could finally rest after the spike in Jason’s emotions. The looks of fear—that if they died too, Jason won’t let them leave until the war was over.

Maybe the funeral pyres were more for himself, than they were for his brethren. Maybe all the talks about how death could be _peaceful_ was him trying to persuade himself, to look convincing to everyone who survived. If he didn’t raise a sword again, then no one had to worry he’d raise the dead, and the sight of blood—the sight of _life_ leaking out of his fallen friends could just remain a horrifying memory that would fade with each forthcoming day.

No more dead bodies. No more fighting. The only thing that wins in a war is _death_ , and lives lost aren’t a reward. They’re a curse.

No more killing. No more wars. _He doesn’t want to fight in another war._

He doesn’t want to be ankle deep in a sea of all the campers he spent fourteen years getting to know, and he doesn’t want to go back to Camp Halfblood _again_ and try to erase the fear everyone gained on the eve of his birthday. He doesn’t _want_ to bear the weight of reminding people that he’s _Jason Grace, year-rounder at Camp Halfblood since the age of two,_ before he’s _Hades’s_ son, even though Luke told him he could be both.

Jason doesn’t have a choice.

*

Leo is awake when Jason comes into the kitchen. “Dude. You look like a zombie.”

“Do I?” Jason smiles weakly, his head numb since waking up. The Argo II is quiet. Despite Jason’s usual round of nightmares about Luke, there wasn’t much rattling. He thinks both Hazel and Percy are reinvigorated about protecting the boat while Nico is on board. Without the eidolons, both Annabeth and Frank are easily able to plan war strategies moving forward, while Leo tinkers with his devices.

Leo does such at the picnic bench, his hands fiddling with a strip of draft paper. At first, Jason doesn’t know what it is—then he has to suppress his own unease.

“Building more weapons?” Jason asks, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I miss my forge,” Leo confesses. The edge of his lip etches into a fond smile, and he pushes the doodle across the table for Jason to see. A bracket at the end of the paper says _30_ inches, with a long, sleek sword with a dragon at the pollum. “A lot less drama at the workshop than here, DP.”

Jason smiles tiredly and pushes the drawing away, careful not to graze his finger against any of the graphite. “It looks nice, Leo.”

Leo looks at him with eyes as warm as fire, looking calmer than the smart mouth comments that he’s been throwing at Annabeth, Percy, and Frank since before Jason’s time aboard. He arches an eyebrow, hand resting against his curls. “Want me to get you something? Hot cocoa? Tea? Sleeping pi—”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Um, because you look like you haven’t slept in months?” Leo’s gaze narrows, and he stares at Jason with deadpan. “Seriously. A zombie. A corpse. Walking dead. Are you planning on eating my brains?”

“I think your brain is too big for me to eat,” Jason says. He gestures around them, at the four walls of many aboard the Argo II. “Given this is what came out of it.”

Leo gives the same smile from the day he fixed Festus, when he told Jason about his fire powers. It fades a moment later, and Leo crumples the piece of draft paper before setting it aflame.

Um. “What was that for?”

“Well, I’m not going to be building it _anytime soon_.” Leo snorts, and suddenly he looks annoyed. He looks at the rest of his drawing pad and starts scribbling something else.

“Are you…mad at me?”

“Me? No, I don’t get mad.” Leo shrugs, his hand scribbling across the drawing pad lackadaisically. “Except, you know, you did kind of just…recruit me to tame a dragon, build this ship, and then drop off the face of the world for a while.”

Jason squeezes his eyes shut with a sigh, and then sits down. “I never took you out for coffee.”

Leo peers up at him, visibly annoyed. “You haven’t said a word to me since getting on this ship. I mean—” He heaves a heavy sigh, evidently trying not to look hurt, but his eyebrows furrow together, still frustrated. “—I figured it was because of your time in Tartarus, but—it’s been days. And you’re still talking to practically _everyone else_ , even Coach Hedge—”

“Well, yeah.” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together. “He’s my uncle.”

For a moment, Leo stares at him. More specifically, stares at Jason as though the Son of Hades’s words have taken physical form—and then he laughs in disbelief. “You’re telling me that old goat is your _Uncle_?”

“I was raised by satyrs.”

“ _Raised by satyrs_?” Leo echoes, and his chest is still heaving with laughter. “ _Bro—”_

“Tell me about your family. The one at the forge.” The last thing Jason wants to do is divulge more on his own history. Every happy moment at Camp Halfblood was etched in blood after his birthday. He sighs in relief when Leo looks at him in suspicious fascination, and bites.

Leo fondly tells him about the legacies of Vulcan that took him in after Lupa guided him to New Rome. How it started as a meager apprenticeship at this masonry, and how he managed to impress all of the old farts with his crafting as he secretly used his own fire to distinguish his work. How for every Roman holiday, they’ll have feasts and take turns taking Leo in.

“It’s like having my eight aunts fuss over me without pinching my cheeks. Except, you know, most of them forget to use deodorant and they like noogies instead.” Leo’s smile widens, despite the wryness of his tone.

“How do they feel? About the fire?”

“Honestly?” Leo’s expression is sheepish, and he tilts back against the bench. Red flushes in his cheeks, and he looks so happy. “They’re proud of what I’ve accomplished.”

“That’s _amazing_ , Leo.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Leo bats his hand dismissively, as if trying to downplay his mentors. Even then, his shoulders sag and he stuffs his hands back in his toolbelt. He’s been attached to it ever they found it in Bunker Nine—and Jason thinks it helps Leo feel a little closer to his father. “There’s a lot less drama. Not like here.”

“Like what here?”

Leo arches another eyebrow, evidently deeming Jason’s sleep deprived mind too slow. “Like Grandpa Sammy?”

Oh. “Hazel told you about that.”

“For a demigod of the Underworld, you’ve really got your head in the clouds.” Leo snorts, and there’s the terseness in his voice again. It reminds Jason of when he helped Percy, and the Son of Neptune immediately rescinded any appreciation he had.

“I’m sorry,” Jason offers. “I’m not trying to make a mess of things.”

Leo considers his words carefully. Of all of the demigods onboard, Jason would assume Leo’s trust of him falls right under Hazel. But right now—with Hazel in the mix and Frank, too, Jason feels as much like an ass as he did when they skipped straight from introductions to taming a dragon.

“It’s not like I _need_ eye candy on my arm. And I like you as a _friend_ , DP,” Leo continues. He taps his fingers rhythmically again against the wooden table and Jason realizes it’s Morse code. “But you put me on this ship, now I have to deal with my dumb ex-boy—Hi, Steve Rogers. You wake up from one of your Capsicle naps?”

Jason startles as Nico di Angelo saunters into the kitchen, looking better rested than before. He wears a green shirt too large, which Jason can only assume belongs to Percy, and his hair is still mussed from a night full of rest. Nico’s probably gotten more sleep in one night than Jason has since he climbed aboard.

Blue eyes stare between the two of them—locking with Leo’s for just a moment. Leo stares back in halfhearted amusement, spinning a screwdriver in his hands. Then, Nico flits his gaze back to Jason, and his groggy gaze is matched with a grouchy scowl.

“I’ll leave,” Jason volunteers tiredly.

To his surprise, Nico’s gaze doesn’t veer away from him this time.

“I suggest you stay, ambassador.” Nico narrows his gaze, his expression grim. “We’re going to need you for this next mission.”

*

For every instance that Nico di Angelo, son of Jupiter, avoided the topic of leadership and being praetor, he still looks very much like a leader with his unruly, wind-swept bedhead and somber demeanor. This is Nico di Angelo, the Titan-slayer and praetor to the Twelfth Legion Fullminata.

This is Nico di Angelo, standing at the Argo II’s kitchen table, with both Aurum and Argentum at his side and happy for the first time in weeks, since their owner’s second disappearance. Standing there, looking ready for a second nap in Percy’s too-big green shirt and a pair of shorts, while everyone else files in.

There’s a brief moment beforehand, where Leo takes a swift exit to announce, _“HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS WOULD LIKE HIS COURT TO ASSEMBLE!”_ and Nico gives Jason one of those patented scowls. The one that blames Jason for placing Leo Valdez on board in the first place. Jason exhaustedly thinks it’s another affair he can’t deal with—Leo’s placement among the Seven was inevitable.

“Where do you sleep?” Nico asks him, before people start to file in.

“The stables,” Jason answers. Nico studies him for a brief moment, one eyebrow darting in the air. It’s more than the fleeting glance yesterday. “Where did you end up?”

Nico considers his question for a moment, treating the opening of the conversation as a careful game. How much did Nico di Angelo want to divulge? How long was he willing to carry on this conversation? His eyes soften for a moment, even if the rest of his demeanor is still firm. “I went to Hazel’s first to make sure she was okay. Then to check out Reyna and Thalia’s. That’s where I found these two.”

He gestures to Aurum and Argentum, who stand like prim, regal dogs protecting a prince.

“But I ended up in Percy’s room,” Nico finishes. He yanks at the collar of his shirt, and the look on his face shrivels altogether—even if it’s for a brief moment. Jason has seen how close the two of them are—he wouldn’t be surprised if Percy spent the evening filling Nico in—with far more emotion than Jason’s own talk with the Son of Neptune the other day. “They both told me what you did. About the eidolons.”

“Does that scare you?” Jason’s smile lifts tiredly.

“Percy said you offered them muffins.”

Jason could almost laugh. “The dead are more willing to help you when you offer them something.”

“So you offered them _muffins_ , while Gaea offered them a chance at life?”

“Anything is better than being dead. Even a satiated stomach.”

He expects Nico di Angelo to either roll his eyes or laugh. Instead, Nico puts Jason under an intense scrutiny—studying him with much more interest than the first days at Camp Jupiter. “What was Tartarus like?”

Cruel. Cold. Lifeless. Days on end wondering if death would be a better fate while monsters threw him around, versus trying to close the Doors. Death certainly felt better than hallucinating two of his dead friends debating his worth. “Not good.”

“Do you think Reyna and Thalia will make it?” Nico’s voice is suddenly quiet. His eyebrows knit together, and Jason thinks he sees the sweet, worried boy that Bianca used to describe to him every January 28th. Percy is so tense when it comes to getting to the Doors of Death that Jason wonders if Nico was able to ask the same question elsewhere.

“They have each other,” Jason says. “That already puts them at a much better place.”

The others arrive shortly after that. Percy, who was finally taking relief after a night on watch, immediately reaches to ruffle Nico’s already messy hair. Hazel kisses Nico on his cheek, her smile so big that Nico shyly smiles back. Frank catches glance of Nico, and despite how much the Son of Mars towers over this blithe Son of Jupiter, his shoulders heave in relief, and he flanks to the left of the table, to join Hazel.

Leo comes back into the room, taking note of Nico at the head of the table, Hazel and Frank beside each other, and squeezes in beside Jason. Annabeth follows in suit and—thankfully wedges between Percy and Leo, casting only a brief glance in Jason’s direction.

Nico looks between all of them, his lips pressed into a small line. “I had a dream about Reyna and Thalia.”

The air in the kitchen suddenly turns cold. Hazel gasps, Percy’s relieved smile fades away, and Leo, Annabeth, and Frank all share somber looks. Jason feels his own heart leap out of his chest, hearing his sister’s name come from Nico’s lips. He thinks back to Nico’s words about wandering into Thalia and Reyna’s cabins—and it makes sense. Nico di Angelo has many pillars lifting him up at Camp Jupiter.

“They’re alive,” Nico continues, and he examines the varied expressions around him. His voice is calm and cool—a new presence on the ship for the first time in weeks. “But it got me thinking about something Reyna said a long time ago.”

He starts talking about how close they are to Diocletian’s Palace, in Split, Croatia, and how the Roman Emperor had a scepter that could raise the dead. Again, Nico’s eyes flit to Jason with the same intrigue that it’s had all morning, and Jason can’t help but feel nauseous.

“You mean you and Reyna talk about that stuff for _fun_?” Percy’s eyebrows knit together and his demeanor twists in disgust. “You two are such _nerds._ ”

“Thank you,” is all Nico can say. He looks back at Jason, his blue eyes suddenly exasperated—and whether it’s because of Jason or because of the circumstances he explains next, the Son of Hades isn’t sure. “These ghosts will only follow a Roman officer. And from my understanding, only a child of Hades can wield the scepter.”

Suddenly the questions about the eidolons make sense. “You need me.”

Nico’s nose wrinkles at the declaration. The rest of the crew follows his gaze, and Jason pretends not to notice. Percy’s eyes are already darkening, like a silent warning against Jason.

“Hazel or I could go with you,” Percy starts—and really, he means _I_ could go with you.

“No. Reyna promoted me to praetor. It has to be me. And it has to be him.” Nico’s gaze rises back to Jason, his expression hard and tone wry. “So yes, ambassador. I do need you.”

*

Of all of the words that came to light and were strategically left in the dark since Jason stepped foot in New Rome, he supposes that _Ambassador to Pluto_ shouldn’t make him wince so much. It’s the first lie he ever told, and Nico di Angelo didn’t believe him right off the bat. Before Annabeth and Reyna were found, Jason would take Nico’s tone of voice and address as a reminder that, this is _Nico di Angelo_ and no, he’s _not_ like Bianca di Angelo in the slightest, in the same way that he’s an echo of the sister that Jason once knew.

Annabeth and he will probably never regain their old relationship. Leo seems at peace with being a Son of Vulcan but would clearly rather be at home with his forge family than the drama aboard the Argo II—and he’s tolerable at best of Jason’s existence as he tries to place his worth on the ship as the builder of the _Argo II_ and Sammy Valdez’s grandson. Percy trusts Jason as far as he can be thrown, despite the advice about Annabeth, and Frank follows that lead. Nico di Angelo has been wary of Jason’s presence since the beginning.

Percy shoves a gladius in Jason’s hand, as the sun creeps through the horizon. He stares at Jason, scornfully cold. “You’re going to protect him.”

“Nico just sailed across the seas to get here within a week,” Jason points out. He stares at the gladius in his hands, squeezing his fingers tightly around the hilt so Percy can’t notice his trembling. As much as he wants to just hand it back, Percy’s right. Jason’s been lucky that he hasn’t had to fight so far.

“Jason.” The pitch of Percy’s voice changes for a moment, and the chilling tone is gone. A wrinkle appears between his brow, and the depths of his eyes are filled with grief. They don’t get along, but they both value Hazel’s safety. Jason knows that extends to Nico, too.

So despite himself, Jason slings the sword over his shoulder and nods. He shoves his own trembling hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Okay.”

Nico reappears, dressed in proper attire. His face looks more refreshed, olive skin glowing and windswept hair temporarily tamed. The Camp Jupiter logo stretches across his chest on his purple hoodie. He takes one look between Jason and Percy and rolls his eyes.

Percy reels back, his expression filled with worry. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I got here, didn’t I?” Nico snorts. There’s a bit of irritation brimming in his voice—Jason can only assume that it’s from the way that Percy’s been trailing after Nico since yesterday evening. Then the ire fades, and he gives Percy one last thoughtful look. “I’ll be fine.”

Hazel gives him one last kiss on the cheek and flashes a supportive smile in Jason’s direction.

“Well,” Leo offers in good jest. “Looks like it’s time to _Split._ ”

No one laughs. Jason thinks he hears metallic giggles coming from Festus at the masthead, and he notices Nico shaking his head with exasperation. Nico joins Jason at the edge of the ship, where the clouds part ever so slightly for the Child of the Sky.

It’s all painfully familiar for Jason.

In the outskirts, Jason sees the gray ruins of Diocletian’s Palace. When he glances Nico’s way, he notices the same look that the Son of Jupiter has been sporting since Reyna’s disappearance. Jason has an idea of what he’s thinking. Reyna held the same wistful look back at Camp Halfblood for weeks, yearning to get back to her family in New Rome.

“I can shadowtravel us down there,” Jason offers quietly. The gladius is heavy on his back. “It’ll be more discreet that way, in case there’s danger.”

He offers a hand to Nico, who immediately frowns in discomfort.

The winds flank around Nico, his hair suddenly swaying like the clouds around them. There’s a graveness in his eyes as he props a foot against the railing of the Argo II. He reaches out with his own hand, as a counteroffer. It’s not a choice. “Let’s try my way first.”

Jason concedes. He lets Nico tuck an arm around him, and the needling in the back of his head reminds him how _familiar_ this is.

When they plummet, Jason just _hopes_ Nico di Angelo won’t drop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Happy update number four! Jason has been so secretive and private since the beginning of the story, so I'm glad to finally shed some light about what's been going on in his head! And as you all know, we're getting to that Scene in the next chapter! Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far as much as I've been enjoying writing it!! Hopefully the weird stretches in time aren't messing with you too much!
> 
> ephemeren (now ariihen) has made some lovely art here: 
> 
> https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/617834371642212352/no-theres-a-way-that-jasons-hard-eyes-soften  
> https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/617894616931434496/so-youre-not-a-praetor-jason-asksthough-he  
> https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/619559018237771776/sketches-based-off-of-kingburus-godswap-au-aka  
> https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/619639968690847744/this-godswap-au-is-still-sustaining-me-these-big
> 
> And as some of you know, my other story, Threads that Bind is also coming to an end soon (only one more chapter!!) so if you're craving more jasico content between updates and you haven't read it yet, plaese check it out! <3


	5. love & hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Eros,” Nico shouts, his vibrato echoing in the caverns. “Where are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mood for Jason: Hello My Old Heart by the Oh Hellos. <'8

Looking at the shattered eyes of Jason Grace, Ambassador to Pluto and son of Hades, is uncomfortable for Nico.

Before Tartarus, Jason would glance in Nico’s direction with that warm smile that would make his skin crawl. Jason Grace, who only came to Camp Jupiter with the intention of helping Hazel and decided to scale the Jupiter Optimus Maximus instead of using the shadows because their first encounter annoyed Nico. The same Jason Grace who knew Nico’s birthday without Reyna having to say anything, and who got him a birthday present when Nico could count all of their interactions on one hand.

This Jason Grace looks worse off. The shadows casts sorrowfully across his face when he thinks no one is looking. The gray under his eyes is worse than any of the other crew members aboard the Argo II, and he’s always looking around with oily black eyes, like ghosts are haunting him. On paper, Nico would laugh—a Son of Hades, scared of ghosts? That’d be like Nico being scared of the winds.

In reality, Nico’s heart breaks. Because if Tartarus turned Jason Grace, slayer of Kronos into _this_ mess, he has _no idea_ what that means for Thalia and Reyna.

Jason’s arm is fastened tightly under the small of Nico’s back, as though they’ve done this a thousand times. Nico doesn’t want to think about the implication of that. He just sees Jason’s narrowed jaw and dull eyes as they look at the ground miles below them without even the slightest bit of fear.

Thalia always refused to be in the air with him, due to her fear of heights. Nico often reminded himself not to take that personally when he was a child. Reyna opted to utilize it for training, in case they would ever have to use it, and while Percy and Nico are okay _now_ , there’d been an instant in the beginning where Percy grabbed him far too snugly and Nico had been a flustered mess for a week before convincing Percy that Blackjack was more suitable.

The clouds suddenly shroud the sun, and Nico can’t help but think that the sudden change in weather reflects both their fathers’ domain: an impending storm looming over the ruins of an old palace probably filled with dead souls.

They land in silence, and Nico hears Jason quietly let out a sigh of relief.

“Did you think I was going to drop you?” Nico asks, to distill the strange atmosphere. Jason stares back at him with those dark irises, and Nico can’t help but miss Thalia a little more. His heart clenches.

The edge of Jason’s lip curls into a ghost of a smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the air.”

Hazel and Percy had both informed Nico of what Jason had done before he got there. About how Jason was full of advice to help Hazel with her powers as Percy was after many years partnering up for Capture the Flag. Percy, despite this tangible grudge against Jason Grace, had ended their private conversation last night the same way Thalia had ended their conversation months ago when Reyna was missing. _You should talk to him about Bianca._

Nico shoves the thought in the back of his mind instead, deciding it’s too early in the morning to be irritated with one Jason Grace, who’d peacefully exited out of his life months ago when the Argo II was still being built.

They walk into the ruins of Diocletian’s Palace in silence, with Nico’s heart twisting at the sight of the fallen kingdom. Reyna used to talk about old Roman emperors like they were still alive, discussing their philosophies in ruling and how they led their people. Her eyes used to light up—and while she didn’t often expand upon her life before Circe’s Island, Nico always took comfort in knowing that she was happy embracing her Roman roots as a daughter of Bellona.

They run into Favonius, God of the West Wind, and Nico has a headache.

“My master has taken the scepter,” Favonius explains, waving his hands about the final resting place of the Roman emperor. He looks at Nico with the same interest that _most_ sky gods do—but this one in particular makes him incredibly uncomfortable.

“Master?” Jason repeats. “Aeolus?”

Nico has a brief flashback to the Master of the Winds calling him to Aeolia and trying to bribe him into convincing Jupiter to give the weatherman a promotion. Sometimes he hated being a Son of Jupiter just for other gods thinking he was some errand boy for his dad. Unfortunately, an _errand_ for Jupiter isn’t the reason for his headache. “He means Cupid. Eros, in Greek.”

Jason’s voice is scarily frigid. “Eros.”

“Very good, Nico di Angelo. I’m glad to see you again, by the way. It’s been a very long time.”

Nico should know better to roll his eyes at a good. Should. “I’ve never met you.”

“You’ve never _seen_ me,” Favonius corrects, and his handsome face is disturbing. “But I’ve been watching you. When you were a small boy, and several times since.”

“If you’ve decided to hail me as the brave son of Jupiter who slayed Krios, then I’m afraid you’ll just be disappointed.” Nico smiles wryly at the god before him. The reminder of standing in front of his father back in July comes back to him. Nothing made Nico feel like he was more in control than when he could tell his father _no._ He’d been thrust into the modern world against his will, separated from his sister, and trained to fight in a war against the Titans, but turning down immortality was _his choice_. “I’ll gladly take death over godhood serving under a master.”

Favonius looks at him like most wind gods do, still fascinated by Nico’s presence. And the edges of his lips lift smugly in an all-knowing way that only a god could. Nico’s annoyed by it. Then Favonius gestures to Jason Grace instead. “You’ve used my winds to guide Jason Grace here. We’ve been waiting for this day.”

Nico’s smile fades for a moment and he looks over to Jason. The look on Jason’s face is still grim, and—while Nico used to muse that Jason looked as pale as a ghost, the ambassador has somehow found a way to look even paler.

“What’s he talking about?” Nico asks.

Jason suddenly looks around the cavernous room, looking for an exit. His hands shake the same way they did when he thought no one was looking. His eyes are darting everywhere, evidently unsettled by _Eros_ and whatever prophetic moment the God of the West Wind is talking about.

“I’ll take you to him—to the master that I serve in godhood,” Favonius says, and his voice is poisonously light. “Maybe you’ll be interested to know how I got here.”

Nico knows the story: how Favonius and Apollo fell for the same Spartan prince named Hyacinthus. He had a love-hate relationship with the myths revolving around same-sex couples. Nico never liked the fact that his own father abducted Ganymede and made him cupbearer to the gods. Even if they were lovers, Jupiter had _forced_ it, much like Jupiter forced his presence into many of the other aspects of Nico’s life.

The story of Hyacinthus and Apollo made him cry. It always hurts Nico more when _those_ types of stories end in tragedy.

And evidently, Jason is shaken by it too.

At first, Nico looks at Jason when Favonius mentions falling in love with a man. He doesn’t know why he wants to gauge Jason’s reaction. A small inkling wants to know that if Jason acted _calmly_ to his sexuality, maybe Bianca would have too. Maybe Hazel will too, if the rousing subject of Nico’s love life ever comes up again and he’s magically graced with a boyfriend.

But then Favonius keeps talking, and Jason looks more absorbed in the story than Nico would expect. “…one day I came across them playing a game of quoits. And you see—love makes you do _crazy_ things. I was so impassioned by my love for Hyacinthus and _enraged_ that Apollo had the nerve to like him too, that I lost control of myself. Can you guess what happened?”

Nico offers the wind god a tired glare. “You used your winds and killed him. Apollo was so heartbroken that he turned Hyacinthus into a flower so Pluto couldn’t collect his soul.”

“Can you believe it, Jason Grace?” Favonius fumes, and Nico can’t tell if he’s being facetious. “Have you ever killed someone you love? It’s heart shattering. When you’re as old as me, you have all of eternity to replay that death over and over again in your mind.”

Favonius looks through Nico and at Jason.

“And Apollo, that stupid sun god, turned him into a flower to avoid death,” he says, his voice eerie. “How could anyone _be_ so lucky, to avoid death?”

Jason is uncharacteristically tense. He doesn’t look like the confident demigod Percy described him as, who forced eidolons to disappear with just the tone of his voice. Nico had kept the door tightly shut to keep Jason Grace out of his life, but suddenly he’s missing that smile.

“Hey,” Nico says, and his gaze narrows. “We’re doing this for Reyna and Thalia.”

The weight of Thalia’s name is enough to Jason. For now. He snaps out of the miserable stupor Favonius cursed him with and swallows the lump in his throat. Two pale eyebrows knit together and there’s a grateful _thank you_ in the hue of those irises.

Favonius drops them off at the resting place of his master, giving Nico one last smug smirk, and another meaningful, **sympathetic** look that unnerves Jason once more.

_So. You’ve come to claim the scepter._

The voice hits Nico hard and fast. His skin crawls, and he whirls around to inspect the room. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Jason pulls the gladius Percy gave him close and unsheathes it in his hands. The imperial gold is unnaturally bright between Jason’s pale fingers—and the stance Jason takes is foreign to Nico.

_Greek_ , he says to himself. The stance Jason takes is _Greek._

“Eros,” Nico shouts, his vibrato echoing in the caverns. “Where are you?”

Eros’s laugh is cruel and nerve-wracking, causing the hairs on Nico’s arms to rise.

_Where you least expect me._ _As love is._

And suddenly, Nico finds himself barreling down the roman streets of the excavated ruins after a sharp gut punch.

_Poor Nico di Angelo—so insecure that he’ll never find love so long as he lives_ , Eros says in a chilling tone. _No one will ever understand him, no one will ever truly **see** him past the title of son of Jupiter._

Jason shouts his name and follows after him, his hand firm on the unsheathed sword. There’s a look of concern in those eyes that pricks against Nico’s skin the same way Eros’s voice does. “You okay?”

“Peachy.” Nico’s nose scrunches until he’s snarling, and he feels the heaviness of his own footsteps—of the storm looming above him.

_Did you expect me to play fair?_ Eros asks, his haughty tone as abrasive to Nico, as Mars was on that fateful day Frank Zhang was assigned a quest. _I’m the god of love. I’m **never** fair. _

To Nico’s great ire, Jason halts again, the blade slack in his hands.

“ _Come on_ ,” Nico snaps, and he drags Jason by the hand back up the stairs.

_You would know something about fairness, Jason Grace, wouldn’t you?_ Eros’s voice is as cruel as Death—and the brief musing from Percy almost sends Nico askew. _The heart **he** stole from you is down in the Fields of Eternal Punishment. Will you ever be brave enough to take it back? _

The gladius drops dead from Jason’s hand. Nico almost falters backwards again when Jason comes to a halted stop at the end of the steps. Jason doesn’t move—his eyes are wide, darting around like a madman lost in the darkness as the invisible force of _Eros_ flitters around them.

“We just want the scepter!” Nico shouts. “We’re trying to stop Gaea! Are you on the gods’ side or not?”

_Love is on everyone’s side. And no one’s side. Don’t ask what love can do for you._

An arrow pierces Jason, and he stumbles backwards across the stairwell. It dissolves into nothing, leaving no trace of blood or a wound—just the scorned, terrified face of a Son of Hades.

“ _Jason_!” Nico shouts—and for a brief moment, the name is raw at the back of his throat. He doesn’t think he’s ever addressed Jason by his name before. “Snap out of it, I _need your help_! Reyna and Thalia _need your help_!”

Eros only laughs harder. _You think a sister’s love will fill the hole **that** **boy** left in his chest? _

“ _SHOW YOURSELF!”_ Nico screams. The anger and frustration are as physical as the beating of Nico’s own heart, and he starts directing ribbons of lightning with his own sword. He wills the winds to slap every obstacle before him, and thinks he feels it slapping against the invisible god.

When he charges at it with his sword, he’s met with disappointment.

_It is a costly thing. Looking at the true face of Love._ Suddenly, Eros starts telling the tale of his own beloved, the same way Favonius did—of how Psyche and he met in the dark caverns when the palace was still his. How Psyche was instructed not to look at his face, yet feared that she was falling for a monster—and out of curiosity, held a candle to his sleeping face one night.

“Were you _that_ ugly?” Nico snaps in a way that would make Percy proud—and he finds himself still flinging lightning bolts in a desperate attempt to hit the love god. He whirls his hand to will the winds and is met with something slapping him across the ruins, his gladius skittering across the battlefield.

Eros goes in a tirade of how devastatingly handsome he is, and how Aphrodite punished Psyche for betraying his trust. How Psyche was forced in exile and was even sent on a quest to the Underworld in order to prove her love. _What about you, Jason Grace? Do you fear you’ll always find a **monster** when you stare Love in the face? _

“He had to _die_ ,” Jason retorts hoarsely. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. How I feel—it’s not important.”

_You come to Love and tell me it’s not important?_ Eros growls, offended. _Love will be with you in every life and every path—and it will **always** be important. Even now, it rattles you—_

“I’m not rattled,” Jason seethes. “I’m—”

_Jason Grace, the boy who came to camp at the age of two and was forced to shed his identity to fit in? Son of Hades? Or are you both—the Jason Grace that **he** accepted and **desperately** wanted? _

“ _Stop_.” Jason’s voice is soft and desperate, his eyes squeezed tightly to turn away from Love. The ground beneath his feet trembles, and a fissure cracks open. Skeletons jut through the dirt—dead Romans with missing limbs, caved in ribs, and crushed skulls. “Please.”

Jason’s voice is horrifically gentle, despite the skeletons clamoring against his ankles. Nico has seen Thalia erect crevasses like the one beneath Jason’s feet—seen her move her hand and summon cursed gemstones as easily as waving a finger. She’s loud and brash, but the skeletons are responding to Jason’s soft vibrato, whether he wants them to or not.

_You’re afraid they still fear you at Camp Halfblood for all those dead bodies._ Eros’s voice is as every bit as menacing and facetious as before, unimpressed. _But he was right, wasn’t he? All of that untapped potential, ready to destroy Olympus stone-by-stone._

_“ **Stop!**_ ” Jason repeats, and the skeletons follow his will—stop the force, stop the voice, _stop Eros._ There’s fear in his voice—the type that probably shattered Jason Grace while he was in Tartarus. Despite all of the training that Nico has had at Camp Jupiter since he joined the Legion, the depths of Jason’s tone makes him forget—and he hears the same broken cry Nico had when Thalia took him away from the Lotus Casino all those years ago.

“Jason—” The name stops at the back of Nico’s throat and a wave of despair and guilt hits him so hard that Nico sees darkness at the corner of his eyes.

The door that Nico kept shut between Jason Grace and he suddenly opens, and the other side is the son of Hades’s thoughts. His misery, his guilt, his fear—and everything that steered Jason Grace in that direction.

He sees Jason Grace, maybe no older than six or seven, shyly tucked away behind a centaur’s leg as a god in a leopard-printed shirt quietly converses with a small Annabeth Chase and a fourteen-year-old boy with sun-kissed skin and sandy hair. Annabeth is _smiling_. The teenager casts a glance down at little Jason, and Nico can _feel_ Jason’s heart skip a beat. He asks the god who the little boy is—and the god replies, _This is Jason Grace, the boy who will save Olympus one day._

He sees little Jason Grace, handling a wooden sword and the puzzled teenager staring at him, _impressed_ that a seven-year-old would be able to disarm someone so much bigger. Then he sees little Jason Grace, full of fear as this older boy ( _Luke_ , Jason’s thoughts whisper at the edge of Nico’s ears, the tone loving and gentle. _Luke Castellan.)_ catches him in the forest conversing with monsters. Luke Castellan only grins, his sandy blond hair matted to his face under the helmet and tells Jason that he’s _amazing._

There’s little Jason Grace, curled up in a tiny twin bed and crying into Luke’s arms, in a cabin overfilled with many campers that belong and don’t belong. Nico feels the _waves_ of Jason’s emotions—how he didn’t _want_ to be a Child of Prophecy, and he _missed_ Alecto, and _hated_ how Chiron wouldn’t let her into camp, and how in every nightmare he has, he’s afraid he’ll make it to sixteen and make the wrong decision for Olympus. Big brother Luke told him he could still be Jason Grace and a son of Hades, and that was all that was important.

He sees Jason at the age of eleven, with Luke Castellan extending a hand. For every camp bead around Luke’s neck is another year where Jason told this boy all of his thoughts in confidence, and now Luke was turning them into fuel for war against the gods. He feels the _guilt_ in Jason’s mind for almost saying _yes._

Nico has to hold back a sob when he sees Bianca’s face. She’s beautiful, with her long black hair and her sky-blue eyes. There’s a wrinkle in her brow, as she exclaims, _“We may have to kill him!”_

The remark falls on deaf ears as Annabeth and Jason look away—having nothing to talk about since Luke left. Since Luke offered a hand to Jason and never looked back to Annabeth.

At every pinnacle moment where Jason Grace had to face Kronos’s vessel, Jason wanted to falter at the sound of Luke’s voice, with all of Jason’s thoughts and insecurities at the edge of Luke Castellan’s tongue. Bianca, another potential child of Prophecy and just a _little_ older than the son of Hades, was always tethering him with the thought that Luke _killed,_ and Luke is _not Luke anymore._ No matter if Jason’s heart still beats. Bianca anchored him back to the grim reality of what may become of Luke Castellan for years—until she left.

He sees Jason— _feels_ the pulse of the son of Hades, as fallen soldiers—fallen _demigod children_ suddenly rise with the beating of Jason’s own heart—with all the anger and rage that Kronos had twisted Luke Castellan into a hollow shell of his own image—

“Stop,” Jason sobs, and his voice is tight. He’s at his knees, his head buried in his hands, desperate to shroud the rest of the memory before Nico can see it. “ _Get out of my head._ ”

_You turn your back to Love when Love is helped you get this far and help you win the first war. When Love helped you realize your potential, son of Hades._ Eros’s voice is cruel—and he’s every bit the monster that Psyche feared awaited her in the dark. _And now you think you can come here, and wield this scepter when you can’t even accept that fact?_

“Leave him alone,” Nico snaps. He’s surprised by the ferocity of his own voice. Suddenly, Nico is by Jason’s side, furious. “You want to beat someone up so much, then come at _me._ ”

_Yet it was you, Nico di Angelo that said you needed him. He is **nothing** to you if he can’t accept how he became a Son of Hades. _

Jason’s breath is short and panicked. The many Roman skeletons—the ones that were as battered and much older than the ones Jason desperately didn’t want Nico to see in his memories—clatter so violently as they tackle the invisible god acutely, when Nico’s lightning couldn’t find him. He sees the skeletons gripping something tightly—and Eros doesn’t struggle to get free.

_You think closing yourself to Love will make you stronger, when **I’ve** made you strong. I will **always** be around, with your **fear** , with your **guilt** , with your **hatred** , Jason Grace—_

_“Stop,”_ Nico demands, and he wedges himself between the god and the son of Hades.

He doesn’t like the way Eros stalls in his rambles. Despite the god’s invisibility, Nico can feel the god’s eyes burning holes into him. _I’m the reason he’s as strong as he is, no matter how hard he tries to deny it. So admit it, Jason Grace. Or else you’re not worthy to wield this scepter._

“I loved him,” Jason finally says, and the words drag out of his mouth with a shuddering breath. “And I _hate_ Bianca for leaving me to kill him.”

Eros finally reveals himself in the cavern, a look of satisfaction splayed perfectly across that devastatingly handsome face. Nico sees cruel eyes that have sucked the red out of every Valentine’s Day card.

“Oversharing now, are we?” Eros asks. There’s a gravity to his voice that cements the fact that the God of Love is standing before them. “Good. You’ll need that honesty to help them with your journey, Jason Grace.”

Jason doesn’t look at the god of love. He doesn’t look at Nico either and Nico knows why.

But Nico pushes all of the awkward friction they’ve had regarding his deceased sister’s life and stands in front of Jason Grace as a shield.

“I thought love had no sides,” he replies, his voice a calm shield for his fury.

Eros looks back to him, his gaze lingering far too long for Nico’s comfort, and he smirks. “Love is at the root of every emotion, Nico di Angelo. Especially for the great Chosen One, like Jason Grace here.”

“Leave him alone,” Nico snaps. “You got what you want, now give us the scepter.”

“Very well. Just know that Love is _always_ with you.” With that prickling thought, Eros disappears for good—leaving Diocletian’s scepter in his place.

Jason doesn’t move. His crumbled body remains in place, curled into a ball with his shoulder blades rising and falling as each short breath tries to cease, and his shaking hands try to come to a steady calm.

Nico didn’t have much of an opinion about Jason Grace before. Nothing more than the fact this fake ambassador was Thalia’s long-lost little brother, who made Nico uncomfortable for every moment Jason stared at him with fascination as _Bianca’s_ little brother. Now, he saw another kid who was also forced into something—into _many things_ —that he wanted to do as every pillar of support crumbled under his feet.

“Jason,” Nico says softly, and the name feels more familiar in his mouth. “I’m sorry that I brought you here—”

“It’s fine.” Suddenly, Jason withdraws his trembling form and forces himself to his feet. He looks at Nico, the fear and guilt in his eyes shielded with a cold firmness that was needed in war, then walks over to collect the scepter on the ground. “Let’s get back to the ship.”

Nico stares at the son of Hades, his eyebrows darting into the air. It was only moments ago that his own mind had been flooded with Jason’s thoughts—of fear and guilt and _shame_ and _betrayal_ from years of emotions being used as a battle tactic under Luke Castellan. With Annabeth no longer smiling at him ( _still_ no longer smiling at Jason) and Bianca forcing the prophecy to choose someone else, when she didn’t turn sixteen. Nico didn’t miss the way that the campers in Jason’s memory—the ones that were still _alive_ —looked at the son of Hades with fear, either.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help,” Jason says gently, his voice constricted. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

Nico doesn’t know what he would do if the situation was reversed. If he had to face the God of Love with no support system like Percy, Thalia, Reyna. He _knows_ he wouldn’t take it well.

“We’re not leaving yet,” Nico says. “Not until you talk to me.”

*

Jason stares at him with hollow eyes at the foot of the steps, visibly shaken by the declaration. His eyes widen for a brief moment, and he averts his gaze to his feet, which were sewn to his shadow.

“Don’t,” Nico says immediately, knowing what Jason’s debating. The ferocity of his own voice is gone, replaced with the gentle tone that Thalia and Percy had instilled in him when he first came to camp. “We need each other for this scepter to work. And I _know_ you’re not going to abandon your promise to Thalia.”

“You _know_?” A ghost of a smile appears at Jason’s face as he leers at the ground. The scepter shakes at his hand, while the gladius Jason had is now skewed on the other at the ground. “Nico, you don’t even _like_ me.”

“I didn’t like how quickly Thalia accepted you with open arms,” Nico confession. The acknowledgement strains his voice, and his heart aches. Jason peers up at him—through the pale blond hair that stuck to his face after the stressful panic attack. Nico’s own chest aches. “I was jealous that her finding you erased all the time she and I shared together.”

Through the strained expression, Jason wills himself to shake his head with amusement. “Bianca would be happy that you grew up so protected.”

“You weren’t happy with Bianca.” Nico’s gaze narrows at the sudden redirect. He’s had it happen to him too many times with Leo. Except with Leo, every change in subject was something hurtful so Nico would feel too upset to pry at everything that made the Son of Vulcan insecure. He’s not letting it happen here.

Jason doesn’t even have an insult ready. His steady demeanor wavers and he withers backwards, the guilt returning to his demeanor.

“It’s okay,” Nico says, and he swallows the lump in his throat, “to hate her.”

“I don’t hate her,” Jason breathes quickly, and he presses a hand to his temple. “I don’t—you shouldn’t have to have _any_ bad memories about her—”

“I don’t have any bad memories about her.” Nico’s eyebrows knit together. “And it’s okay if you do.”

Seeing Bianca in Jason’s memories is enough to make Nico want to cry. How animated she was after the Lotus Casino, with her long black hair and sky-blue eyes. How her eyes would darken with a storm, taking command as a leader that Nico always knew she could, and try to direct Jason to focus on the _war_ at hand, instead of a betrayal of _love_.

And Nico understands why Eros could rattle Jason so much: a god who was the child of the two things that caused Jason Grace’s head to argue with his heart. Love and war.

Jason’s expression is still tight and closed off. Nico has already made his stance clear.

So he heaves a sigh, letting the exhaustion settle in after flinging several lightning bolts, and mounts on the first step outside of the ruins, legs tucked beneath him. Nico pats the empty spot beside him, not bothering to look over his shoulder to see if Jason Grace will run away.

And Jason won’t. Jason forced that memory to hide, but the way Eros and Favonius toyed with him made it obvious what happened. The Fates forced him to kill someone he so truly loved.

Even that _word_ leaves Nico unsettled. He’s loved before—Bianca, Thalia, Percy, and now Hazel. But he’s never said it aloud to a boyfriend, afraid to shed the last layer and show all of his vulnerabilities.

Jason did just that in the past, and that love _scorned_ him.

“Do you know what it’s like, coming out in the 1940s?” Nico asks, when Jason takes a solemn seat beside him. It’s eerily similar to their spots on the Temple of Jupiter, where Jason stared at him with quaint fascination.

Now, Jason stares at him with sympathy, his eyebrows melding together. “I can’t imagine that it was easy.”

“I’d have to imagine it too,” Nico confesses. “I was too afraid back then. Percy and your sister made sure I was comfortable every step of the way when I came here.”

He enthralls Jason with the story of catching two men kissing in the dark streets of Venice, and reaching out with a tiny hand, thinking, _I want that._ How he wanted the same happiness he saw when one man pulled away to look at the stars reflected in his lover’s eyes—the many stars that never changed, even now. How a stranger in the alleyway quickly came out and raised a fist in hate, and Bianca quickly ushered Nico away before he could shed tears at violence.

Then the sudden shift in paradigm, when Nico found himself at Camp Jupiter and caught two boys kissing behind the Mess Hall. Nico had been so shaken at the thought of someone possibly raising a fist _there_ , too, that he hid under his sheets and thirteen-year-old Percy coaxed him as he came down from his sobbing.

_It's okay_ , Percy had told him, though the son of Neptune was awkward with the thought of love himself. _To like boys or girls or whoever you want to like._ He made sure to emphasize the _you_ in that statement, even back then.

After that, it only took a week for ten-year-old Nico to accept that, _yeah_ , it was okay, and when he came out to Percy and Thalia, they hugged him and bought some pride stickers and accessories that stayed in the box with Nico’s medals of achievements.

“Sometimes they coddle me too much,” Nico admits, as the ire from this morning returns to him. Percy had tailed every step last night when Nico came aboard the ship, the unwavering concern in his voice about how Nico was handling Thalia and Reyna’s disappearance. Nico had to put a foot down and tell Percy that flying across the seas was _nothing_ like watching Thalia and Reyna fall to the deepest depths of hell, and it was _okay_ if Percy was the one who needed to be consoled. “But I think I would’ve been worse off if I didn’t have them.”

Jason smiles fondly at the admission, the corners of his lips lifting ever so softly. And again, Nico doesn’t know what Bianca told Jason about him, but it was enough that Jason could _look_ at him with this familiarity and be happy at Nico’s upbringing. It’s strangely sweet.

“Eros was right. I don’t know if I’ll ever find someone who’ll understand everything I’ve been through.” Nico doesn’t know if he’ll ever find someone who’ll smile wider than the galaxy for him. “But I already knew that.”

He thought he came close with Leo—with their shared interest in comic books. Leo was the only boy in New Rome who didn’t flock to him because of his title, and Nico found relief in the fact he could still get happiness outside of the Legion. Leo liked him for his nerdiness and bad jokes, but never knew what to say when Nico was earnest about his feelings. He cringed at their nasty breakup, but Percy, Thalia, and Reyna never let his heart break. They never let him fall.

“I’m never going to _be_ that model son of Jupiter. I’ve already got three siblings who just want me to be as happy as I can be since I can’t go back home to Venice. My Venice.” Nico sighs easily, remembering the sweet summer nights watching the stars reflect off the many canals back then. “And I am happy. Or I was, before this war kept ripping them away from me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not your fault,” Nico replies automatically—though he was starting to learn that Jason Grace was forgiving to a fault. Guilt pangs in his chest. “You once came to me to me to make sure that I was okay after Bianca’s death. You loved her so much that you needed to make sure I was at peace. It never occurred to me that maybe you weren’t there yet. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“I did keep going on about her when you weren’t comfortable.”

“Yes, I believe the dark clouds in the sky should have been an indication for you to stop,” Nico retorts, the irritation fluttering in his voice again.

The edge of Jason’s lips curls tiredly—the way it does when Nico scowls at him and the son of Hades would try to avoid a fight at all costs. “Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.” The exasperation fades in his voice. Instead, Nico turns the full weight of his body so he can face the son of Hades. Jason’s hands are no longer trembling above the scepter. The gladius gifted to him lays meters away, not even a scratch on it. There’s a small crack in the floor where the skeletons had retreated once Eros left.

Nico thinks back to the crowd of skeletons and can’t help but think there’s a reason _why_ Jason Grace no longer wanted to lift a sword.

“And you’re allowed to _feel._ Love,” Nico says softly, and the word is still strange on his tongue, “and hate.”

Jason takes in his words. “Did that scare you?”

Nico peers back in curiosity—which is when he realizes he was staring too long at the fissure. The question is an echo of Jason’s earlier worry about the eidolons, which Nico had thought nothing of. Now he thinks the inch that was given on the Argo II was a worry of what would happen when Jason would have to force a mile.

“No,” Nico responds instinctively. “I mean—I’ve seen Thalia throw screamo concerts with the lares.”

“Those weren’t lares,” Jason replies almost immediately, and the weary smile fades on his face. “Those were dead bodies.”

_That_ had been chilling. Jason had been able to do that with the gentlest of words, when Nico found himself having to keep control of his emotions, lest he wanted a constant storm cloud above his head. If Eros had hit a nerve with him, then Nico would probably be screaming more than he did today.

“No,” Nico repeats just as blithely.

Jason studies him carefully to find the lies in Nico’s words, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, after an afternoon of Nico airing out the feelings he usually kept to himself, Jason seems to look a little better. He sighs wistfully and stares down at his hands. They begin to shake. “Then you’d be the only one.”

The stories are as sad in Jason’s words as they were in his memories. How he was told from a young age that he would one day make a choice that would either kill the Olympian Gods or save them. Chiron took one look at the Fury that guided Jason to Camp Halfblood and only saw a monster. It wasn’t until Luke Castellan and Annabeth showed up that someone was fascinated in this boy who was a _model demigod_ at Camp Halfblood, but also that he was a Child of the Big Three. Luke was so fascinated by his fate and urged Jason to tell him happy thoughts and negative ones.

At this point, Jason’s voice starts to stutter, the reluctance of letting someone else in apparent. Luke had been coaxing and training him for a war—but on the other side of what Jason had been told all his life. 

“Keep going,” Nico urges. He reaches out and places a gentle hand on Jason’s wrist, like Thalia, Reyna, and Percy have done for him many times. It saddens him how Jason’s hands vibrate with fear.

Jason skips details. He talks about how he wanted to believe Luke _every single time_ and how Bianca had to remind him they were in a war. He doesn’t say it—he isn’t ready to broach the subject of _hating_ Bianca.

Instead, he brings up how on his birthday, the culmination of all of his frustrations and heartbreak led him to take advantage of the dead bodies on the field and turn the tide of the war in an instance. How _everyone_ who grew up with him wanted to drop their swords in fear, terrified of what Jason Grace, son of Hades could _really_ do, and how he had demanded in his coldest voice that they weren’t going to stop until Luke was killed. Not even in death.

He even talks about how Luke Castellan was at the brink of dying, and Annabeth and he could look each other in the eye for just a brief instance, wondering if they could bring their Luke back.

And how Kronos took advantage of that moment and tried to kill Annabeth.

“At least,” Jason whispers softly, his voice filled with frustration. He touches his forehead, as if trying to replay the memory that had been forced away from Nico’s eyes. “I—I swear that’s what happened. I didn’t have a choice. Luke could’ve just been—”

“Luke made a choice a long time ago,” Nico says slowly, his heart aching at the desperation in Jason’s voice. The struggle to still see Luke as a good person, since Jason didn’t always know him as bad. “And you’re the son of the King of the Dead. Death judges where you end up based on your actions.”

Jason looks ready to cry—and Nico wonders if it’s been a long time coming. Each tremor looks like the warning of an earthquake stuck in a human body. “I wanted him to die a hero. If I had waited—’

“If you had waited,” Nico cuts him off again, his hand strong around Jason’s wrist again, “then Annabeth might have died, and she’s done everything to help you with this prophecy.”

A quiet sob leaves Jason’s throat, earth-shattering. He stares at Nico with the dark hues of his eyes, sad, and it’s the first time that Nico has really _looked_ at them. Maybe the first time Jason has let anyone stare into them since his birthday.

“Percy told me what you did. I know he’s been a jerk to you, but you still extended an olive branch so Annabeth and he could get along.” Thank gods, too. Months ago, getting on the Argo II with this much drama felt as smart as tying stones to his ankles and throwing himself in the Little Tiber to see if he could swim. Annabeth has been _angry_ since Juno dragged her to New Rome. By Jason’s account, Annabeth has been angry for even longer. “You and she should talk.”

“Annabeth _hates_ me.” Jason presses a hand to his forehead again, his voice chilling with defeat.

“Annabeth doesn’t know what’s going on in your head.”

“I don’t _want_ anyone knowing what’s going on in my head.”

“I already saw it.” Nico’s gaze settles on the soft frustration exhibited in the wrinkle of Jason’s eyebrows, and the reminder of discomfort. Jason wanted to barricade his thoughts and Nico had no intention of opening a door to let Jason Grace in. Eros didn’t care. “I get it. It’s a scary place. But it gets less scary as you let people in.”

“It’s different for you.” Jason jerks his head back, the frustration still prominent in his voice and face. “You lift the winds and strike lightning and everyone _oohs_ and _ahhs._ Percy skips a rock across a river and the naiads think he’s flirting with them. Even Thalia—”

“Thalia is comfortable in her own skin as a Child of Pluto, and lets people see her how she wants to be seen,” Nico protests. “Wealth isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. It’s what led your mom to go insane before she had you. Thalia told me as much. She’s taken her powers and twisted them in a way that makes her happy—all the screamo concerts and unlimited amount of riches for band memorabilia.”

Jason stares at him, puzzled.

“Hazel told me that you’ve tried to change the way people perceive death. So people can come to terms with it peacefully at Camp Halfblood.” Nico narrows his gaze at him. “You’ve found a way to do good as Jason Grace _and_ as a son of Hades. Luke may have planted that thought in your head, but you’re the one who decide where your path leads.”

Pale eyebrows knit together. Nico thinks he could sit here all day and argue why Jason Grace _is_ a good person. Why he’s just another kid that got caught up in two stupid wars and had a sense of duty that put even the most tragic heroes to shame. Instead, Jason finally seems to concede. For now, at least.

“Thank you, Nico,” Jason says.

Nico sighs in relief. “And about Bianca—”

“I don’t think I’m there yet.”

“Okay.” It’s strange to be on the other end of this Bianca talk, cutting her existence off, but Nico doesn’t push. He accepts the _yet_ in Jason’s tone, and takes the frustrated furrow of blond eyebrows as a good sign. This is further that Jason Grace has gotten since slaying Kronos last summer. “I’m a friend, if you need one.”

Jason stares at him once more, his posture slouched and lips forming a quiet _‘o.’_ “Thank you.”

By the time their talk is finished, the sky grows dark. Nico stands to his feet and dusts dirt off his pants. Jason does the same, the scepter in hand as he awaits Nico to lift him in the sky. He doesn’t get into Nico’s personal space—he just stands there patiently, like the shy little boy Nico saw between the centaur’s legs. It’s strangely cute, compared to Thalia’s brash and loud nature.

“Let’s take your way,” Nico finds himself saying.

Jason stares back at him, still confused, but nods. He reaches out with a hand, and Nico doesn’t hesitate to hold it.

When the shadows coil at their feet, Nico rejects instinct to fly away. He takes one glance at Jason Grace, whose pale skin glows iridescently like the many ghosts Nico has seen in the past and watches the tension ease away from Jason’s face.

Finally, enveloped in darkness, Jason Grace looks a little more like himself.

*

“I think I’m going to go lay down for a while,” Jason mumbles when they get on board. He starts to walk and is reeled back by Nico’s grip.

“Go to Thalia’s room,” Nico says. “And sleep.”

Jason stares at him in confusion, one foot already in the shadows. “But—”

“It’s what she would want for her little brother. Believe me, I would know.” Nico keeps his grip tight around Jason’s wrist.

“But…her stuff—”

“Stop being considerate. You’re her little brother. You’re allowed to be selfish,” Nico insists, and gestures down the stairwell that leads to the eight cabins. He catches the look on Jason’s face—a mixture of fluster and hesitation. His immediate reaction is to get annoyed—but he doesn’t. “What’s wrong?”

Jason averts his gaze.

“Jason?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Jason replies suddenly, though it certainly doesn’t feel like _nothing._ Again, he concedes, and nods in agreement. “I’ll go lay down in Thalia’s room.”

“Good.” Nico makes a mental note to check on Jason later. If he’s learned anything in their short time together, prying at Jason’s thoughts were necessary. Jason didn’t want to express his feelings, yet he clearly _needed to._

When Jason disappears, Nico finds himself getting tackled yet again. “Percy—did you— _shower—agh_!”

“Too worried,” Percy reels back, staring at Nico in a way that suddenly makes Nico feel bad. Percy’s been more somber since Thalia and Reyna. Nico’s come to the startling realization that Percy wants to keep all of them at arm’s length as much as he did. The constant check-ins on Nico’s emotional wellbeing are more for Percy’s sake, than Nico’s own. “I’ve been looking in the sky for you _._ ”

“We shadowtraveled.”

“Shadowtravel?” Annabeth appears, her company evidently nearby. She arches an eyebrow at Nico, her lips contorting into a frown. “You guys were gone all day.”

“We needed to be,” Nico admits. He can’t help but inspect her closer now. She’s more worn than the little girl from Jason’s memories—the one who clung to Luke Castellan’s left hand the same way Jason clung to Luke’s right. Her eyes have been a storm since the first day they met.

Even now, at the notion of Jason and Nico going on this short mini-quest, she closes her eyes and shakes her head dismissively. “I’m sure.”

Annabeth most likely knew Bianca as long as Jason did. But there hasn’t been one instance where her curiosity was piqued by Nico’s relationship with her.

“You and Jason should talk,” Nico says slowly, and he watches as Annabeth’s expression changes into confusion. Suddenly, Percy unlatches from Nico, and he has the same inquisitive look on his face. “Jason thinks you hate him.”

“ _Hate him?_ ” Suddenly, Annabeth’s gray eyes morph into something other than the cold, analytical gaze that Nico saw when they first met. She’s hurt, her eyes suddenly well at the brink of tears. Her voice cracks. “I don’t _hate_ him! Jason shut me out the moment Luke left! The only person he let in was Bianca, and she was the _only_ one he’d listen to!”

Bianca’s name is as familiar in her mouth as it was on Jason’s, and Nico sees the image of his sister standing between these two blond demigods, frustratedly telling them what was inevitable. Maybe that was why Annabeth’s gaze was always so stoic when it was aimed towards Nico—his presence was a cold reminder to Annabeth the way it was a warm one to Jason.

Percy’s gaze immediately flies to Nico as it always does, gauging his reaction. Then, when Percy realizes that Nico is holding his ground, he reaches over and touches a gentle hand to Annabeth’s shoulder.

“Beth—” _Beth?_ “—Nico’s pretty smart about these things. Why don’t you try talking to him?”

“Because he doesn’t _talk_ to me,” Annabeth refutes, and her voice is small.

“Try listening,” Percy says gently, and it’s incredibly… _soft._ “We had to listen to each other, didn’t we?”

She takes in his words carefully, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes as he patiently waits for her to come down from a high. Then she nods—flashing Nico one meaningful look that makes him incredibly uncomfortable—and heads in the same direction as Jason.

When her silhouette disappears, Nico notices Percy’s jaw tighten with anger.

Percy shakes his head with dismay, his hands at his side. “Seriously—that guy has spent all this time _knowing_ about both camps, lie to Thalia for _weeks_ , and then has the nerve to stir drama about Anna—”

“I trust him,” Nico says.

The rest of Percy’s sentence dies in his throat, and he looks back at Nico, confused. “You trust him?”

“I do.”

“You don’t trust most people.”

“I don’t,” Nico agrees. He decides to change the subject before Percy decides to dig deeper. Jason hardly wanted to tell _him_ all of these things, let alone have it broadcasted across the ship. Nico gestures towards the stairwell. So, you and _Beth?”_

Of the five years that Nico’s known Percy, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen his big brother blush. “I—well—she’s— _cute_ , when she’s not trying to chop my hand off—”

“Go on,” Nico encourages, his voice sly. “I’m listening.”

*

Later that night, Nico checks on Jason.

Thalia’s cabin is painted all black, with the walls lined in posters. The only light is a skull lamp that sits on a nightstand with jewel-encrusted knobs. It’s the tackiest sight that Nico’s ever seen, and he misses Thalia even more.

“You sent Annabeth here,” Jason says tiredly from the bed.

“I did,” Nico confirms, and a nervousness suddenly nags at him. “Did you talk?”

The edges of Jason’s lips curl for a brief moment into a semblance of a smile. “We listened to each other.”

He doesn’t delve further than that. Nico quietly sighs in relief.

Jason remains in the bed, the bags under his eyes darker than this morning.

“You haven’t slept,” Nico notes.

“I haven’t,” Jason confirms, and his voice is weak. The shadows around his face make him look even older—more ragged.

“Why?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first.

“ _Jason_.”

“Nightmares,” Jason finally says, and a soft, tired groan leaves his throat. He presses a hand to his eyes.

Nico can’t help feeling the pang in his chest. The realization finally hits him. He’s reminded of the look that Jason gave when Nico insisted on Thalia’s cabin. It wasn’t just hesitation—it was fear. Nico closes the door behind him and plops onto the black shag carpet. “You know what helps me with my nightmares from the first war?”

“What?” Jason asks, his voice quiet.

“I talk about them,” Nico says. He settles in for a nap, knowing Percy will guide them safely to their next destination. “So talk.”

They lay in silence for a while. Jason reluctantly gets into detail about his dreams—of the darkness, shadows, and death. Of hallucinations of Luke and Bianca. At the mention of the same two people that Nico heard him utter with Eros, Jason’s voice stalls again. The pitch of his voice is quiet. Tired, even—which makes Nico think that even with the nervousness, Jason is feeling safe enough to fall asleep.

“Are you going to be okay?” Nico whispers, the concern fluttering in his voice. “With summoning the dead?”

Jason makes a sound on the bed, and Nico realizes it’s another issue that was keeping him awake. Except to his surprise, Jason only sighs—both tired and exasperated at the same time. “I’m a son of Hades. I should be.”

“It’s okay if you aren’t,” Nico insists. He opens his eyes to take in Jason’s silhouette. The demeanor on Jason’s face is no longer the soft, heartbroken boy in Eros’s cave. It’s not even the odd smile that Jason gave him when they first met. Instead, Jason’s face is stern and hard—a mask after many years of being groomed as the Chosen One.

“I know what I need to do,” Jason reassures. “Thank you for caring, Nico.”

There’s a kind sincerity in his voice that makes the heat prickle at Nico’s cheeks. He’s spent so much time building up such a hostile image of Ambassador Grace, son of Hades, that it never occurred to him what a friendship with Thalia Grace’s little brother might _be_ like.

“Thalia would be proud of you,” Nico says quietly.

Jason laughs awkwardly, the sound echoing against the ceiling. “Bianca would be proud of _you._ ”

A silence follows. Nico has spent so many years accepting Bianca’s death that this entire experience has been an odd whirlwind. Bianca was _alive_ after the Lotus Casino and thought he was dead. She helped in the war, and Jason knew her as intimately as Thalia knew Nico. Maybe more.

Enough for Jason to have intense emotions and _hate_ as much as he _loved._ Both emotions clearly rattled the son of Hades, too. Jason falls mute in their conversation, the air stiff. From the corner of Nico’s eye, he sees a silhouette of sadness in Jason’s demeanor. A sense of regret.

“You can take as long as you need to tell me,” Nico reassures, his own voice strained from exhaustion. “Just know that I’m here.”

A sigh frees itself from Jason’s mouth, and the tension awkwardly dissolves into exhaustion. Eventually, they both fall asleep.

*

The adventures after that feel as standard as the ones Nico enjoyed with the Legion. Leo gets blasted off the ship at one point after stupidly flirting with Khione, the Ice Goddess. Nico gets the annoying pleasure of spending a day in the sky with Hazel trying to find him, then has to carry his ex-boyfriend back to the ship. Leo presses all of Nico’s buttons as he normally does, when the son of Vulcan is uncomfortable—but seems to be in good spirits. Leo casually tells Nico that he Iris Messages _Beauty Queen_ as often that he can, which makes Nico feel less bad about abandoning Piper at the footsteps of New Rome.

Hazel, Frank, and Leo seem to have resolved whatever tension is going on between them, so Nico decides that so long as Hazel is at ease—as her role as a daughter of Zeus and aboard this ship as a crew member—then that’s all that matters. They meet with Notus, God of the South Wind for safe passage through Epirus. After two bullies like Favonius and Eros, Nico insists on tagging along with his sister for protection. Notus starts poking at Nico’s insecurities the way Eros tried to, exclaiming that he’s not enough of a leader to command a legion with Diocletian’s scepter.

“I’m aware,” he’d said. “Can we still try, anyway?”

He decides commanding an undead Legion is a future problem, and Auster, Notus’s Roman form, gives Nico a flirty wink before allowing them to go through.

Annabeth and Jason seem to be in better spirits. There’s a glimmer of concern in her eye each time Jason is mentioned. When she doesn’t think anyone is looking, she cocks her head to the stairwell where Jason spends most of his time in Thalia’s cabin. No one complains that he isn’t fighting.

Navigating the skies and the seas are easier with two Children of Zeus and Jupiter and a Child of Neptune aboard. Nico gets to watch Percy in action as they navigate through the ocean, and Hazel’s terrifying new Mist abilities.

Being able to control the winds and skies is one thing, but the _mist?_ Nico tells her she may be the most powerful Daughter of Zeus that will ever come to be, and she hides in her hair from the compliment. Frank has a newfound confidence when Nico and he talk—the chubby-faced Chinese-Canadian boy who came to New Rome all of those months ago a thing of the past.

(Frank only stutters again when Nico asks why Hazel and he aren’t dating yet.)

Every once in a while, Nico knocks on the door of Thalia’s cabin. They don’t always say much. Instead, Nico listens to the soft breathing of the son of Hades until it slows, and he knows Jason has finally fallen asleep. Falling asleep beside someone that’s _real_ seems to put Jason at ease.

It takes a few days, but they finally reach the Necromanteion.

*

Nico’s back in the ungodly praetor outfit before he knows it. Imperial gold gleams at his chest and the purple cape billows behind him.

Percy gives him a mischievous smile when Nico climbs up the steps above deck. “Praetor di Angelo.”

“Don’t start with that,” Nico chides. He refused to leave until he saw Thalia and Reyna safely on the other side of the Doors of Death—and he thinks Percy is a little more appreciative that he’s on board.

Instead of a laugh, Percy scrutinizes him. The whimsy in Percy’s face is replaced with the same somberness that he’s held since before Nico came aboard. “You spent another night with Jason.”

“I spent another night in Thalia’s cabin,” Nico corrects, and he rolls his eyes. Percy’s directness is a familiar tone to him. There’s no teasing in his voice—just an earnestness when he wasn’t happy. “Besides, whatever you and _Beth_ are up to, I’d like to be as far away from it as I can.”

Luckily, it’s enough of a deterrent that Percy’s face flushes red and he begrudgingly grumbles.

The rest of the crew slowly appears. Nico’s cheeks flush as Hazel gives him another approving look at the praetor’s outfit and he rolls his eyes as Leo bows. Instinctively, Nico’s eyes fall to Jason. The son of Hades stands taller, his leather jacket cast aside in favor of his white t-shirt. The bags under his eyes have faded only a smidge, and he holds Diocletian’s scepter close. Nico doesn’t miss the way Annabeth glances in Jason’s direction for a moment in concern, or how Jason returns the look.

“We’ll find it if we head north,” Jason says finally, his voice even. “The House of Hades.”

They’ll find the Doors of Death, Reyna, and Thalia. Nico’s heart clenches at the thought, his lips pressing to a straight line. He glances up for a moment and catches Jason’s eye.

“Well then,” Nico replies slowly. “Lead the way, Ambassador Grace.”

*

By mid-day, Nico is burning in his praetor robes as he trails after Jason. The metal is hot against his body, and he can feel himself sweating. He absolutely _regrets_ putting the armor on. Unfortunately, as flippant as he was about Notus’s comment, he knows he’ll need every ounce of sway that he can muster in his current state. Jason is just as sweaty, his ghostly face flushed and glistening from the spring sun. On the other hand, everyone behind Nico is perfectly fine in their t-shirts and shorts. Leo soaks up this sun without a thought, while Hazel seems to be enjoying the breeze.

When they make it to a stone stairwell, Hazel supplies them with barley cakes. The taste is so disgusting that Percy gags loudly and Annabeth grumbles before handing him a bottle of water. Nico gives Percy a careful eye and the son of Neptune just mouths for him to _shut it._

“So we’re going inside the spooky stairwell and tunnel?” Frank asks, his voice suddenly small and fearful.

“Well,” Jason says, his lips contorted in a weird frown. “Yeah.”

“You haven’t participated in enough War Games with Thalia,” Nico says, dismissing Frank’s fears. “Lead the way.”

With a look of relief, Jason nods and they descend down into the caverns towards the Necromanteion. Nico’s always had mild discomfort with tunnels—he couldn’t fly, which meant he needed to rely on his other assets. Thalia would always tell him that moving through darkness was the same was flying in the sky: you got to see everything in a different angle.

Leo helps light their path with a ball of fire and Nico watches as the waves of shadows flicker against Jason’s shoulder blades. The deeper and darker that it gets, the more Nico’s heart pulses—from the waves of death energy radiating off the catacombs and the way Jason looks in his element.

The end of the stairs lead to a dead end, and Annabeth frowns. She stares at the wall, then points to the floor. “This stone is newer than the rest of the ruins. There should be more behind here.”

“Too bad there’s not a door,” Percy grumbles. Then he lights up. “Hazel—make a door!”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Percy, that’s not—”

“Can you do that?” Nico arches an eyebrow at his sister.

Hazel doesn’t blush or get flustered this time. She waves her hands and mist suddenly follows. Suddenly, a plain door appears against the solid rock. When she turns the knob, an entrance opens to the other side. She smiles, impressed with her own abilities. “I guess I can.”

“Good job,” Nico whispers, and Hazel’s smile only widens.

At the other end of the room sits a chalice. Jason doesn’t say a word as he reaches out for it, as though he’s performed rituals like this all the time. Nico can only wonder how many perils Luke Castellan and the world have put Jason Grace through before he slayed Kronos.

“Poison,” Jason announces. A wave of nausea fills the room, and Nico doesn’t have to look behind himself to know the rest of their crew is suddenly nervous. Jason’s voice is monotonous instead—and there’s a devotion to duty on his face. It was only a few days ago that Nico had seen this boy curled into a ball, breathing intensely through a panic attack.

Jason catches his eye, his expression nothing like the soft, shriveled one that had been hiding in Thalia’s room. The shadows carve out the dire situation against his jaw and cheekbones.

“This is the ancient entrance to the House of Hades,” Jason says, his voice solid. “All of the great heroes came here, seeking advice from the dead.”

“Did the dead advise them to go home?” Leo asks.

While Nico has to bite back the urge to roll his eyes, he notices the edge of Jason’s lips lifting, charmed ever-so-slightly by the son of Vulcan. Annabeth smacks Leo when Nico can’t.

Then—Jason dips the chalice back and takes a sip. Not one word is spoken, and he drinks it smoothly. Dark eyes look back up to Nico, who’d forgotten to blink. Jason’s gaze stares back at him, the corner of his mouth still stained with green. _Poison._

“Do you trust me?” Jason asks quietly. It’s his voice that betrays his regal stance—gentle, like back in Croatia.

It’s the same thing Thalia asked all those years ago, when she asked him to leave the Lotus Casino with her.

Nico takes a bitter sip without hesitation. From the corner of his eye, he sees Percy with a hand outreached, and a smile curled against his lips. They pass the chalice around until Frank drinks last, and the chalice disappears from his grasp.

“Good,” Jason says quaintly, and he stares at the path. “This should get us through the first level.”

There’s a squawk behind them. Percy. _“The first level?”_

*

Unfortunately, the rest of the Necromanteion doesn’t go nearly as smoothly as drinking poison.

Gryphons and empousai and all sorts of monsters start to show up, stirring tensions with the infrastructure of the mansion faltering between earthquakes. Nico suddenly finds himself back-to-back with Percy, fighting off the monsters as they flank towards them. Hazel and Leo get separated from them when a volley of rocks destroys the rest of their pathway down to Thalia and Reyna.

Nico doesn’t even have time to think of his dread—of Hazel getting lost along with his other two sisters. Percy and he swipe their swords against the gryphons, and Nico tries to push more monsters away with a gust of wind.

“I missed you,” Percy shouts. “Can we stick to movie marathons next time?”

“ _Deal_ ,” Nico yells back—and then he sees Jason whacking an empousai away with the end of the scepter. Nico hurls another gust of wind at a gryphon behind Jason—then charges in with a sword.

Jason stares at him for a brief moment, startled. “Nico—?”

“That’s an ancient artifact, don’t break it,” Nico chides.

“ _NERD_!” Percy shouts across their battlefield. “Now _please_ use it!”

“Jason—” Nico starts, but he doesn’t need to finish.

The cold temperature of the Necromanteion suddenly chills even further, and Nico feels the back of his head grow dull and numb. Jason slams the butt of the scepter into the dirt, his stance firm. His voice drops a pitch, darker than any shadow. “ _Rise_.”

Roman soldiers burst from the ground like daisies, glowing eerily at the command. They scramble through the fissure, clamoring up against each other and rattling in all directions. They’re different from the skeletons Jason summoned before—a messy uncontrollable heap that doesn’t respond to Jason’s emotions or words.

Jason shouts orders, but his voice falters—still shaken at the thought of dead bodies. He tries not to let it show, but Nico sees the tremors in his shoulders against the quaking ground beneath them.

“Nico!” Annabeth cries. “Shout an order!”

In that instant, Nico’s words suddenly die in his throat, his hands growing clammy. He’s back-to-back with Jason, his cape draped over his shoulders, but his mouth is suddenly dry. “But I’m just—” He’s more than a centurion now, following Percy’s lead into War Games.

“Nico?” Jason asks loudly, and there’s concern in his voice.

“Orbem For—” Nico’s voice stumbles, and Jason yanks him out of the way before he can get hit in the head with a rock.

“What’s wrong?” Jason shouts, and his own concern overshadows his fears.

“I’m _not_ a leader!” Nico shouts, and Jason makes an incredulous noise.

“You’re the reason we got this scepter!” Jason refutes.

“But—”

“You stood for me!” Frank yells.

“But I—”

“You’re the reason Jason and I are talking again!” Annabeth rebuts.

“You saved my life against Krios!” Percy cries, and there’s a wave of disbelief in his voice. “You’ve got this, bro!”

If Reyna were here, she’d boast the same amount of confidence the day she did when they charged Mount Othrys. Thalia would be grinning in her praetor robes, shaking the earth beneath their feet and causing avalanches. Nico sucks in a breath and shoves the dreaded fear out of his voice. He channels the calmness that Piper would charmspeak him into during Senate meetings. “ _Orbem Formate!”_

Suddenly, the skeletons do their best to flank around them in a small circle, creating an undead barrier between mortal and monsters. The Latin stings in Nico’s mouth—but not in a bad way.

“Legion!” Nico shouts, his voice louder and steadier than before. “ _Agmente formate!”_

The zombie Legionnaires stand erect, a sword in hand and shield in the other. Suddenly they lash out at the monsters surrounding them, and they find themselves with the upper hand. At the suggestion of Annabeth, their Greek praetor, Centurion Zhang, and Centurion Jackson, and she join the fray, shouting battle formations in unison with Nico until every last monster is gone. Nico stares in stun, his throat tingling by the end of it.

“Good job,” Jason says quietly. He wipes the sweat off his brow, and there’s pride in his voice. “I knew you’d be a good praetor.”

“We all knew,” Percy gushes, and he slings an arm around Nico.

Annabeth and Frank join in the compliments, but Nico only wobbles. He stares at the dusty remains of the monsters, dumbfounded, while his undead legion climbs back into the crevasse.

“Should we offer them muffins?” Nico asks.

*

He’s not sure how the rest of the events unfolds—just that at some point, he sees a lot of mist and fire, and Nico’s mind relays back to the prophecy— _To Storm or Fire, the World Must Fall._ Hazel tells him later that she used her powers to get Thalia and Reyna out of the elevator, and she tricked Pasiphae to fall to the pits of Tartarus. They see Clytius for a brief moment getting burned alive by Hecate—who tells them they need to leave the ruins _immediately._ Nico doesn’t get the chance to take in either Reyna or Thalia when they reunite—he’s too busy trying to keep himself rooted to the ground.

“I can shadowtravel us out of here,” Jason says immediately. His hand is cold around Nico’s, and the latter demigod yelps.

“All nine of us?” Nico shouts back, and his jaw tightens with worry.

Suddenly, Thalia’s hand is at Nico’s other wrist, and she gives him a big smile through the dirt and grime caked on her face. “All nine of us.”

Between the two children of Pluto and Hades, Nico suddenly feels Jason’s grip soften.

They plummet into the shadows, with a cold sensation digging at the heart of Nico’s chest. He gasps for air at the sudden motion—but before he can panic, he feels the gentle tendrils from Jason’s hand on his right, and the firm protection from Thalia on his left.

The House of Hades crumbles as they pop up outside, and Nico finds himself against the dirt. He stares at the night sky above them, bewildered, stunned, and utterly exhausted.

Thalia throws an arm around Jason and him.

“Thank _gods_ ,” she whispers, “my baby brothers are okay.”

Nico lets out the breath he’s been holding since he climbed aboard—the anxious one that told him to stay focused on rescuing Thalia and Reyna. Tears swell in his eyes and he watches as Jason’s own demeanor begins to crumble.

Reyna throws her arms around him from behind. “I am _so_ proud of you.”

Lastly, Percy laughs gleefully, throwing his arms around both girls with the first grin in weeks. “Welcome back.”


	6. siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not to knock your own strength, Steve Rogers—” Leo gestures to the Argo II, which hovers above them. “—but how the Pluto do you plan on carrying Virgin Athena across the sea? A really big basket?”
> 
> “I’ve carried Percy,” Nico says.
> 
> Leo flashes him a look that startles him—one of concern, despite all the badgering he’s done since Nico’s arrival aboard. “If you give me a few hours, then maybe I can—”
> 
> “We’ll shadowtravel.” Jason’s voice cuts through the conversation before it can continue.

If Nico doesn’t think too hard, he can almost pretend that it’s a normal picnic under the canopy of the Garden of Bacchus, where grapevines curl against poles and the fruit is ripe for springtime. Where the stars are glimmering brightly, and it’s him and his three favorite people talking about nothing in particular—new shows that Percy thinks Nico will like, new battle tactics that Reyna wants to implement in the next War Games, and Thalia’s laughter in the mixture of it all, as she tells Reyna to take a chill pill. 

That bliss fails in comparison to Nico’s relief and happiness now, wedged between Percy, Thalia, and Reyna across a large picnic blanket as they eat food outside of the House of Hades. Percy is on his second circle of pizza, while Reyna scarfs down empanada after empanada—the first inkling of real food in _weeks_ —and Thalia happily gorges on street tacos.

They don’t talk about how tired and worn-down Thalia and Reyna look. Or how their clothes look like rags against their dirty skin, or how there’s dried blood against Reyna’s shirt. They don’t talk about how rich Thalia’s voice is, or how much paler she looks with weeks-old makeup smeared across her face.

Instead, they’re far too happy in the presence of each other. The air of tension between Thalia and Reyna is gone, having vanished after weeks of focusing on survival instead. Percy’s grin and rambles are music to Nico’s ears, and the light in Reyna’s eyes makes Nico flutter. Every once in a while, Thalia’s eyes lift to Nico, her smile reaching her eyes, and Nico’s heart clenches.

He only had one promise for her to keep: _come back._

“Percy!” Nico scolds. He pales as Percy reaches over with a dirty hand to steal the bread off his plate. “That’s _mine._ ”

“You weren’t eating it!”

“ _Yet_ ,” Nico sneers, and he grimaces as Percy puts the wadded bread back on his plate. “Take it back!”

“Do you want it or not?”

“Don’t be such a fatass,” Thalia snaps. She swipes at Percy, who immediately yelps.

Reyna shakes her head and offers an empanada to Nico. “Children.”

“They are,” Nico grumbles.

“I meant you, too,” she teases, and Nico can’t help but glow red.

Glancing at the other end of the picnic blanket, Nico takes in the sight of the other demigods with them. The last time they were altogether like this, Percy had stormed out of the Dining Pavilion after punching Jason in the face. Now, Percy is relieved for the first time in weeks, not a care given in the world with Reyna and Thalia beside them. Frank has a look of confusion on his face, while Annabeth stares on in amusement between him and Jason. Hazel and Jason stare onward—both evidently fascinated by the dynamic, while Leo doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

Nico catches Hazel’s eye and flushes. He opens his mouth to speak, and Thalia scoots over to Hazel.

“What is that?” she asks curiously. “It smells _amazing._ ”

“Shrimp gumbo,” Hazel says, when she finds her voice.

“Oh my gods, please share that.” Thalia grins, and she lifts her gaze to Jason. “What about you, baby brother? What are we sharing?”

Jason startles at the acknowledgement and reveals what’s in his bowl. “Oatmeal.”

Thalia is so stunned by the sight that she blinks at her plate. Then, unsurprising to Nico, Thalia reaches against her own plate and stretches out with a taco. Her expression softens. “We both know food is scarce in Tartarus, Jason. Eat more.”

Her voice is grave, and Jason’s expression breaks into sorrow. Before he can open his mouth to speak, Annabeth intervenes.

“You haven’t eaten much. Not in a while,” Annabeth shakes her head in dismay. “You do this at camp all the time. You get too busy trying to take care of everyone else.”

“You’re right,” Reyna suddenly says, and she heaves a tired sigh. Nico doesn’t miss the way that she naturally leans into Thalia, or how Thalia suddenly tenses. “You spent most mornings running errands for other people.”

“You’re right about the running,” Hazel agrees, and she blows a lock of hair out of her face. “Seriously—six miles first thing in the morning?”

“ _Miles_?” Leo wrinkles in disgust.

“You think that’s bad, but then he gets roped into cabin inspection because no one knows the Stoll Brothers’ pranks as well as he does.” Annabeth shakes her head in dismay, and there’s an evenness in her smile that Nico hasn’t seen before. Jason’s reaction is sheepish.

“Is _that_ why?” Hazel asks, and she laughs. “How do you have _time_ for that?”

“I make time,” Jason confesses tiredly, and the edge of his lips curl into a smile. “You get to know the camp intimately when you’re there so long.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth snorts, and she grins at him. “Like where to get a real can of coke.”

Percy guffaws, offended. “ _Coke_? Beth, please—”

“ _Beth_?” Thalia echoes, and her voice stretches with amusement.

Immediately, Nico watches as Percy’s cheeks burn with red while Annabeth hides her own fluster. He’s seen Percy as a presence as calming as the ocean and as blistering as a tide—but a fumbling Percy is new for him.

“Rey, did you hear him?” Thalia whips her head around.

“ _Rey_?” Percy jabs next. Suddenly he’s on his knees, pointing an accusatory finger at Thalia, who squeaks.

“Percy,” Reyna warns. Her gaze narrows, cheeks emblazoned with a pretty pink. Despite the flourish in her face, she gives him the same sharp look that Captain Ramirez-Arellano gave when she climbed off her ship. The one that usually makes Percy nervous—like now.

“Neeks,” Percy begs, “help me out here.”

“Pass,” Nico responds, and he stares despondently at the wadded piece of bread on his plate. He’s only glad that his love life is being omitted from the mix. Lifting his gaze, he notices Annabeth rolling her eyes, still flustered herself. Frank and Hazel stare at the sight in bemusement, hands touching, and Leo looks like he wants to gag. Leo reaches over to whisper something in Jason’s ear—and the son of Hades smiles, his gaze meeting Nico’s.

It's nice, for all of them. Nico’s _seen_ the terror aboard the Argo II from Percy’s Iris Messages. With the eidolons gone, Nico realizes it’s the first time the crew has been able to breath since stepping foot aboard the Argo II. Maybe since it was revealed that there was a Greek camp.

The bickering continues in the background, but there’s no scathing tension. Percy isn’t icily reminding Reyna about the fact they’d been searching for her for months. Thalia isn’t quietly giving heartbroken looks in Reyna’s direction. Reyna is smiling, laughing and at peace since Juno swapped Annabeth and her—while Annabeth seems to make more of an effort to get Jason to speak. They stay on civil subjects—something about Capture the Flag, or something about a satyr named Grover.

Nico notices the relief in Frank and Hazel’s expression.

The conversation eventually makes it back to the Roman soldiers. Percy is the one who brings it up.

“So that’s your power,” he remarks, as he gestures to Jason. “Raising the dead, shadowtraveling, and commanding the spirits.”

It’s a neutral acknowledgement, away from the mistrust that Percy had placed on Jason a long time ago. Nico stares warily at the son of Neptune—but decides he has nothing to fear. Percy has a genuinely curious look on his face.

“I didn’t really command them,” Jason points out. He gestures half-heartedly to Nico. “Nico did.”

At that redirect, the back of Nico’s neck suddenly prickles, and he feels the eyes of his three favorite people on him. Percy cocks his head back, grinning, and throws an arm around Nico.

“You should have _seen_ him,” Percy gushes. He puffs his chest out with much more confidence than Nico has ever been able to manage and waves an arm around. “Commanding the undead army of Roman soldiers! Shouting Latin! He did a good job.”

Unsurprisingly, Thalia and Reyna are grinning. Nico feels the red flush in his cheeks, inescapable, but it’s the look of pride on Reyna’s face that’s reminiscent to the day he agreed to be promoted to centurion.

“And here I thought you’d try to find a way to weasel out of it,” Thalia teases. “Proud of you, Nico.”

“Praetorship suits you,” Reyna agrees, and her smile softens.

“I beg to differ,” Nico grumbles, and he tugs at the sweaty long sleeve shirt sticking to his skin. The praetor robes are thick and heavy, and he’s been burning in the heat since they left the Argo II. “As soon as this is all over, I’m stepping down.”

“Then you’ll have to find a replacement,” Reyna points out.

“Frank,” Nico responds without missing a beat, and the son of Mars guffaws.

“ _Me?_ ” Frank points to himself, suddenly looking nothing like the centurion that was helping command cohorts.

“You saved my life against gorgons, _tried_ to stand for Annabeth when she came to New Rome, and helped restore the Fifth Cohort’s eagle. That’s just before you came aboard the ship,” Nico points out, not even batting an eye. Then he looks over to Reyna. “And he’s a son of Mars. Do you have a problem with that?”

Reyna studies him carefully, the corner of her lip etching into an approving smile. “I suppose I don’t.”

“Good,” Nico agrees. If he could, he’d peel the armor off now and throw it at Frank.

“ _Ave_ , Nephew Zhang,” Percy jests, and he claps a hand on Frank’s shoulder, just as proud as he was before.

“Except—” Annabeth interjects, her eyebrows furrowing into concern. “The Athena Parthenos should be presented by a praetor at Camp Halfblood. A Roman leader needs to return it to the Greeks.”

The mention of Nico’s quest suddenly makes his heart twist. He’d been in such a hurry flying from New Rome to the Argo II that he forgot about his original reason there. Nico had even prolonged his stay, just to make sure both Thalia and Reyna were okay—and now they were about to part ways again. He bites the inside of his mouth, suddenly not hungry anymore, and pushes his plate out of the way.

“I’ll be Praetor di Angelo until Camp Halfblood,” Nico says, which only makes Reyna smile even wider.

“Not to knock your own strength, Steve Rogers—” Leo gestures to the Argo II, which hovers above them. “—but how the _Pluto_ do you plan on carrying Virgin Athena across the sea? A really big basket?”

“I’ve carried Percy,” Nico says.

Leo flashes him a look that startles him—one of concern, despite all the badgering he’s done since Nico’s arrival aboard. “If you give me a few hours, then maybe I can—”

“We’ll shadowtravel.” Jason’s voice cuts through the conversation before it can continue.

Nico studies him, surprised. Conversations about Jason’s daily life at Camp Halfblood were different from discussing his powers. The way Annabeth, Hazel, and Reyna rally behind him as a camp leader feels different from a demigod whose own powers made him nervous. Jason held a careful façade when it came to being a camp leader and a son of Hades.

That being said, Jason looks back at him, as though the answer is obvious. Nico had watched Jason’s demeanor flip so easily from a scared boy in Croatia to a dutiful leader for Roman soldiers, even if the spirits didn’t listen to him. Jason’s voice was hardly been above a whisper when he’s summoned spirits—just an eerie graze of what his powers were really like. Nico can’t help the curiosity of what an _army_ that would listen to Jason would _really_ be like.

The air of their picnic changes, and the shift in mood is apparent. Nico watches as the realization settles on everyone’s faces as well: Nico and Jason would be leaving soon to carry out this quest, and the Seven would continue to Greece to defeat Gaea.

“I guided Reyna back to New Rome and I’m not one of the Seven,” Jason says, and his gaze turns back to the rest of the crew. His gaze fixates on Thalia for a moment, then Hazel. “You need to go defeat Gaea. That was your purpose for waking up again.”

The edges of Hazel’s lips curl into a smile that makes Nico’s chest tingle. The way Thalia’s own smile fades makes his heart ache.

“We have to play our parts in the war,” Jason continues, and his dark eyes rise back to Nico. “We need each other.”

Annabeth smiles wearily, and a twinge of sadness in her voice. “I can’t imagine a better sight than two camp leaders presenting the Athena Parthenos to the Greeks. Camp Halfblood will listen.”

“Probably the wrong camp leader,” Jason retorts softly. Sorrow is in his own voice as he catches Annabeth’s eye, and they share a meaningful look.

Annabeth’s smile fades for just a moment, and she reaches over to squeeze his bicep. “You’ve always been good, Jace. _All_ good.”

“You’ve been good to me,” Hazel reassures, and her gaze reaches Nico’s eyes for a moment. “The first thing you helped me do was find my brother.”

The edges of Jason’s lips curl upward, relieved. This image is a realization to Nico, too. From the way everyone spoke of him, it was easy to forget that Jason Grace was a son of Hades. There’s reprieve there that piques Nico’s interest, now that he’s actually _looking_ at Jason.

The compliments fade seconds later, as Thalia leans back. She sighs gently, and the fleeting moment is evident.

“Just when we get to reunite,” she says, “we say goodbye again.”

Sadness hits Nico hard. He thinks back to the serendipitous look that crossed the daughter of Pluto’s face when she saw Jason again for the first time. Every time they parted made Thalia a little sadder. He looks at her again and realizes part of that sadness is directed at himself, too. Percy’s smile falls from his face, and Reyna’s demure fades. Hazel’s eyebrows furrow together.

Reyna breaks the silence by throwing an empanada into their campfire. “A safe passage for the Son of Jupiter and Son of Hades.”

Percy’s eyes brighten only vaguely, and he offers the campfire his stuffed crust. “Safe passage for Neeks.”

One-by-one, they start scraping food into the fire, while Nico’s heart buzzes in his chest. He doesn’t miss the disappointment in Percy’s eyes as he fades back against the picnic blanket. It mirrors his own too easily. Hazel looks more confident after helping the two praetors out of Tartarus, but she looks ready to cry as she reaches out to offer Nico a hug.

Thalia throws her taco into the flames last, and she kisses both Jason and Nico on the cheeks. Her grip over Nico’s hand is as comforting as the day they put the Lotus Casino behind them. “Safe passage for the little brothers.”

*

For the first time, Nico doesn’t get jealous when Thalia pulls Jason aside. He watches Thalia keep a hand around Jason’s elbow, stance sturdier since coming out of Tartarus, and Jason staring directly into her eyes, soaking in every word.

He’s heard Percy’s stories about what it was like: finding Jason Grace and then losing both their praetors. Jason had banished himself to the stables while the remaining Five could complete their mission. Nico’s slowly learning that Jason Grace will bury his emotions for the sake of a quest—even if it kills him.

Percy and Reyna decide to take it as a cue to guide Nico back into the Argo II and gather his things. Despite Gaea’s impending wake, they take slow steps in order to enjoy each other’s company. Nico soaks in the image of Hazel sequestered between Frank, Leo, and Annabeth around the campfire, a joyous smile on her face, and he can’t help the happiness that arises. Hazel’s found a family in this century, too.

The gaps in conversation are miniscule. Nico’s afraid to run out of things to talk about—because the moment that they do, he’ll be off delivering the Athena Parthenos to Camp Halfblood—this physical place that people had spoken about for months, yet Nico had never stepped foot in. All he knows is, it hardened the hearts of both Annabeth Chase and Jason Grace. 

They stop in the living quarters, but no one makes a move towards the cabins.

Nico’s heart twists in his chest as Percy and Reyna turn to look at him. “You’re not mad, are you?”

Mad at how he’s acted (because Nico feels mad at himself), mad that he’s prolonged his own quest to bring the Virgin Athena to Camp Halfblood, mad that at the end of the day, all Nico wants to do is forget about this war and sit in the Praetor’s Office watching movies with his three people.

There’s room for Hazel, too. And Frank. Percy would probably ask Annabeth to join them in a way that annoys her. Nico would even invite Leo—who poured his heart and soul creating the Argo II as a giant shield that would safely deliver the Seven to Greece.

“ _Mad_?” Percy snorts, and the corner of his lip curls. “Yeah, there’s a dumb war going on when we could be at home eating sushi.”

Reyna’s own eyes flicker with amusement and she peers back at Nico. Her eyebrows furrow together sadly, which makes Nico sad, too. “I’m mad we have to say goodbye again so soon.”

Percy’s expression softens. He shoves his hands in his pockets and nods in agreement. “I feel like you just got here.”

“I—” Don’t want to leave, Nico doesn’t say. The worst part about war was having to stifle selfishness for peace. He casts a glance down at his feet, his heart tightening in his chest.

When he looks back up, he’s met with Reyna pulling him into a warm embrace.

“Praetor or not,” Reyna whispers in his ear, “I’m always proud of you.”

Percy stares at him quietly over Reyna’s shoulder, and Nico knows the sentiment is shared. He’s spent the last few days watching Percy’s stress come down from its high as they made it to the Necromanteion. Percy came to camp as the first descendent of Neptune since Shen Lun and weaved his way into respect as a centurion. His leadership skills were tested after Thalia and Reyna descended into Tartarus—and while Percy had a carefree attitude at New Rome, Nico _knows_ there was darkness before. New Rome was a relief, and that was why Percy is willing to defend it at any cost.

Instead, Percy slings an arm around him in an awkward half-hug. “I don’t like that you’re going off to make peace with Jason. And, you know, what weird friendship the two of you have.”

“Oh?” Reyna arches an eyebrow. “So you’ve turned the other cheek with him?”

“I have my reasons,” Nico responds brazenly. He shoots a glance at Percy. “I trust him.”

“You trust him?” Reyna echoes curiously. “You don’t trust anyone.”

“I don’t,” Nico agrees, and he gestures half-heartedly to Percy. “Percy trusts Annabeth now, too.”

At the mention of their Greek praetor, Percy shoots Nico another evil eye while Reyna’s eyebrows dart in the air. Nico’s not sure what conversations have passed on the Argo II before his arrival, but the bickering between their son of Neptune and Camp Halfblood’s daughter of Athena is enough to pique Reyna’s interest.

“ _Really_?” she asks, and she sounds thoroughly in disbelief.

“We were going to get there eventually,” Percy protests, though he rolls his eyes. “Or gods, so help me, I’d throw her off the ship.”

Reyna and Nico share a look, knowing full well that Percy would absolutely not do that.

Instead, Percy’s expression morphs thoughtfully, and he admits defeat. “Jason was the one who found common ground for us.”

“They’ve known each other for a long time,” Nico explains. He supposes by now that the camp beads are like every stripe that’s on his own arm. This time, Percy shares a look that almost makes Nico jump—the weight of it burning a hole in his skull. Eidolons aside, Percy and Annabeth spent a long time leading the ship to the House of Hades. Nico wonders what Percy knows about Luke.

Reyna thinks nothing of it. She shakes her head and turns the knob of Percy’s cabin door. “It’s amazing that he survived Tartarus all on his own.”

At the mention of the darkest depths of the Underworld, Nico’s chest clenches. He looks past the excitement of being reunited with Reyna again, and instead inspects her. Her face is…haunted. Her arms are thin, and her ragged bob falls irregularly against her face—and while she doesn’t look around for ghosts the way Jason does, there’s a new intensity to her gaze.

“What was Tartarus like?” Percy asks softly. Nico has no doubt that he’ll ask the same question, to Thalia, too.

Reyna raises her head and smiles weakly, but Nico knows the smile would never reach her eyes in the same way again. “Less gruesome, with company.”

“Did you and Thalia…?” Nico doesn’t finish the sentence. He’s had enough of watching this awkward love triangle between Thalia, Reyna, and Piper. Worst of all, Piper’s _nice._

“Hard to avoid talking when your life depends on the other person holding your hand.” Reyna’s smile is grim, and her expression darkens in a way that reminds Nico of Jason. The shadows are darker around the curve of her face, swallowing her up in whatever nightmares lived down below. The hairs on Nico’s arms prickle at the idea. Then suddenly, Reyna’s expression changes reluctantly, and red flourishes in her cheeks. “I might have also kissed her when we were coming up the elevator.”

Percy gasps audibly, his hands flying to his mouth. “ _Reyna._ ”

Nico rolls his eyes. “What did she say?”

“She said _thank you_ ,” Reyna says with deadpan, and she mimics Nico’s expression. They continue onward into the room, conversation forgotten, and inspects the shag carpet, where Nico had made a nest for himself.

“What about Piper?” Nico asks softly, and he watches as Reyna’s shoulders concave.

“Girls are _hard_ , Nico. Be glad you don’t have to deal with them.” Reyna’s tone is exasperated, her cheeks still flurried with a soft pink.

Instead of digging further in the daughter of Bellona’s love life, Percy and Nico share one last look. A smile etches across Percy’s face—and Nico wouldn’t be surprised if they’d continue this conversation in private. It’s nothing like how they left things in New Rome. 

“Girls _are_ hard,” Percy agrees sympathetically.

*

Jason watches the retreating back of the son of Jupiter, purple cape rustling behind Nico, and hides a smile.

“Did you find that sweet boy I told you about?” Thalia asks, when she catches him staring.

He looks back at her, the sheepishness appearing across his face. His heart breaks as he catches her weathered glance. Thalia’s shoulders slack at her side, her feet tucked beneath her. She’d reapplied her makeup, like it was a mask that would omit the terrors of Tartarus, but her eyes still gave it away.

“We found some common ground,” Jason admits, his voice raspy. He still has trouble wrapping his mind around what happened with Eros. One minute, Jason had his feelings locked up in a chest at the bottom of his heart, and the next, Eros lit a candle to set it on fire. Too many thoughts slipped out at once, and he doesn’t know how to put them back in that chest. Worst of all, he doesn’t think Nico di Angelo will let him.

Thalia studies his face, as she’s done many times before—but Jason thinks he finally understands why. She’s still trying to process that he’s real and that they’re together.

When Jason was little, he would’ve given everything to have someone that was like him—like how the Stoll Brothers had each other. Someone who understood what it was like to be forced in a role as a child of prophecy and knew how hard it was to be _himself_ and what everyone _expected._ He learned too late in life that Hades was a part of him that couldn’t stay in the shadows.

Now that he’s found her, Thalia’s the only person who _sees_ him as Jason Grace, the son of Hades, and…Jason Grace, the son of Beryl. She put Beryl out of her mind a long time ago, forging her identity as Praetor Thalia of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata. But Jason thinks she’s so sure of herself in this role that it astonishes him how quickly she’s willing to shed it to be Thalia Grace, his big sister.

“I met Iepetus down there,” Thalia says softly, and her eyes shimmer gently. “He said you talked about me a lot.”

Jason’s heart warms, and he smiles back. The thought of Iepetus floods back to him, bittersweet. “I did.”

“After Krios—and Kronos for you—I never thought I’d stare a Titan in the face and call him my friend,” Thalia confesses. She leans into him, and there’s a comforting warmth in her arm touching his.

“Iepetus wasn’t like Kronos or Hyperion. He didn’t like his dad, but he wasn’t as insistent on killing him like his brothers were.” Jason recounts the many conversations he’s had with the Titan of Mortality—mostly hostile at first—and then gentle, when Iepetus realized this son of Hades meant no harm.

“Did you talk to monsters a lot?”

“Yeah.” There’s a way that Jason admits it that makes him feel lighter. When he looks up to Thalia, he realizes she isn’t freaked out. At this point, Thalia has made herself numb with the ghosts around New Rome and the cursed riches that came with being a daughter of Pluto. Jason’s heart oddly warms at the thought of Thalia’s upbringing being as twisted as his own.

Thalia stares at him curiously, neither scared nor intimidated. “That first day. You mentioned that Alecto brought you to Camp Halfblood.”

In that moment, Jason can’t help but hesitate. Every time Alecto’s name is brought up, he just thinks back to the look of discomfort Chiron gave both Jason and her at the border of camp. Luke had been the first person to encourage these conversations—and by virtue, Annabeth also insisted on bringing him up as a powerful demigod for this prophecy. She didn’t realize Luke was on the opposite side of the war until it was too late.

He thinks back to Nico’s words—about how he was allowed to be selfish—and looks back at Thalia. After all of this lying and Tartarus, she still looks back at him with the same fascination and pride as the first day.

“I don’t remember it very well,” Jason admits, “but I’ve had plenty of dreams.”

He recounts the story of how their mother died, with Jason in the back seat of Beryl Grace’s car. He’d stared Death straight in the face that night, looking far friendlier than Eros. For the first time in years, after wealth and fame had shriveled Beryl Grace into nothing more than a greedy corpse, she closed her eyes peacefully. Thanatos had stroked Jason’s hair tenderly and told him that his trifles with death would continue to be uneasy.

(Yeah. The words were definitely not as heartwarming as his tone.)

Alecto had unbuckled his car seat and took him in her long, inhumane arms. The most important thing was getting the son of Hades to Camp Halfblood, where he would be protected. Alecto, Hades’s most loyal servant, did everything to keep Jason alive. Monsters had territories for the most part—and they rarely attacked. When they did, Megaera and Tisiphone joined the fray. Alecto would tell the monsters that Jason was _hers_ , and Jason was happy to be claimed by someone who showed more kindness and happiness— _sobriety—_ than his own mother.

Sometimes they were the batty she-demons that bared their teeth with friendly smiles at Jason, cooing at his ghostly-white skin and pale hair. Sometimes they looked more human, like him. But they _always_ protected him, to the point that Alecto was trying to maintain her physical form at the gates of Camp Halfblood, after both her sisters were killed.

He tries not to let the anger show in his voice.

“Chiron said she couldn’t be let in because she was a monster,” Jason offers quietly. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “But they’re _all_ monsters. A celestial bronze sword would hurt him as much as it would hurt her. Or you and me.”

Thalia frowns, but he can tell it’s reluctant. “Chiron is known for training Greek heroes.”

“And the Furies are known as our father’s servants.”

“They…were born from Ouranus’s blood, weren’t they?”

“Chiron was born from Kronos’s.” Jason sucks in a tired breath and brushes hair out of his face. “They’re just perceived differently. Misunderstood.”

“Yeah, but our father—”

“Is the King of the Dead. Death is inevitable, not evil.” Jason stares at the grass beneath his fingers. “He’s misunderstood, too.”

To his surprise, Thalia studies him closer. “You’ve had a lot of time to think about this.”

Jason is reluctant to continue. The last time he did that, someone had offered him a hand and told him all of his worries were justified. Instead, Jason folds his hands together in front of him and raises an eye to her carefully. “Does that scare you?”

Thalia peers back at him, her hair falling into her face. To his surprise, she shakes her head and a quiet laugh flutters from her throat. “No one understands our father, Jason. Camp Jupiter didn’t know what to do with me when I first arrived. The Shrine to Pluto looks like a _porta-potty_ compared to the Jupiter Optimus Maximus.”

He thinks back to Temple Hill. The Shrine to Pluto was clean and pristine, but not a spectacle like the Temple of Jupiter. Thalia had taken him there once to pay respects to their father—and a part of him took a look at the statue of Pluto and didn’t know what to think. Despite its small size, Camp Jupiter at least _had_ a shrine. Jason was shacked up with plenty of other kids in the wrong cabin and still expected to fulfill a prophecy.

Meanwhile, that porta-potty raised a child of Rome. Thalia made enough noise to become praetor and grow into her leadership role. Based on the number of screamo concerts and band memorabilia, Thalia had a much easier time changing the way people perceived her.

Jason backtracks in his thoughts, watching the wistful gaze in Thalia’s eyes. It’s darker now, filled with the shadows of Tartarus. She’d told him about her time at the Lotus Casino, where she’d lost years of her life before coming back to camp. She’d quickly buried her misery with a smile and told him it was more important that he was _alive._ Jason’s mind was a flux—with the end of the war, Annabeth disappearing, and trying to make amends at camp—that he was afraid Thalia would reject him long before accepting him.

Thalia tried to hide the past, too. The part about their mother. From the way she took care of Percy, Reyna, and Nico, Jason knew she was further along in moving forward. Calling her journey _easy_ is wrong.

“Chiron didn’t know what to do with me, either,” Jason confesses, his voice soft. “He…was different from the Furies. They knew so much about our dad that any odd thing about me didn’t fear them. Chiron focused on training me as a hero. Sword-training. Archery. Myths. Like that would be the saving grace when the prophecy happened, and not…”

His voice trails off.

Thalia looks at him, her eyebrows furrowed together. “And not what?” 

A smile curls against Jason’s lips, but the sadness still wrenches at his heart. He stares down at his hands, which had stopped shaking a while ago. In the days that had passed, he’d noticed that Nico started staring at them, too. Normally, his thoughts would drown with blood—but they were coming easier these days. “You haven’t seen the scary things I’ve done.”

She reaches out and places a cold hand over Jason’s. The edges of her eyes are sympathetic, and she strokes small circles into his wrist, like Nico had after Eros. “I’ve had to do scary things, too.”

The thumb at Jason’s wrist bone stops, and Jason watches as Thalia’s grip loosens slightly around his arm. He peers up to see the cloudiness of her gaze, reliving every horrible minute of Tartarus. Immediately, Jason grasps her by both hands, and moves his face into her vision. The guilt floods his senses—but she stares back at him, grateful for the interruption.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave,” Jason says softly. His eyebrows furrow together. “I feel like you need me.”

Her gaze melts, and she tightens her grip around Jason’s fingers. “We’re going to see each other at the end of this.”

He thinks back to Thalia’s words—how they didn’t know the choices that put either of them on their respective paths, but it brought them here. Together. This war separated them, but it wasn’t going to keep them apart.

“Seeing you again kept me going,” Jason confesses softly. Eros had said that a sister’s love wouldn’t fill the hole in his heart left by Luke, but having her with him makes Jason feel less lost. He’d been so awestruck by her when they first met, but now he can’t imagine a life without her. They’ve missed out on all of those sibling things that Bianca described doing with Nico, but Jason knows he _needs_ to be around Thalia to feel normal. To feel like the better version of himself.

“Ditto,” Thalia says, and she leans into his form once again.

Jason watches as Reyna, Percy, and Nico file out of the Argo II, Nico’s backpack in tow. The son of Jupiter flashes Jason a brief look for a moment, but doesn’t beckon them. He turns his head to continue speaking to the other two Roman demigods.

From the corner of his eye, he watches as Thalia keeps her eyes on one demigod in particular. Reyna. Her gaze is intense, but the grip on Jason’s arm is gentle. Reyna peers up at them for a moment—and then both girls avert their gazes.

“What’s that about?” Jason asks in confusion.

Thalia’s expression twists, uncomfortable. Her grip is still soft on Jason’s arm. Then finally, she says, “Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d do everything in your power to protect them? Everything?”

Jason’s heart tightens in his chest—but he distracts himself by how his impetuous and powerful sister seems flustered, occasionally glancing in Reyna’s direction with pink dusting her cheeks. “Uh, no. I can’t say that I have.”

“It’s a powerful feeling, little brother. Don’t let it escape you when it happens.” Thalia chuckles softly under her breath, despite the luster in her face. “Or at least figure something else to say other than _thank you._ ”

There’s embarrassment in her voice at the last remark, but not regret. Thalia’s lips curl into an alluring smile. She sports the same look she had months ago, when Jason asked what Reyna was like. Despite all the hardships of Tartarus, there’s _joy_ that’d been missing since before they reunited.

“I hope I get there someday,” Jason responds. For some reason, the confession brings relief in his chest. His shoulders heave, and he stares back down to the people that helped coax Thalia with her past. She forced herself to be transparent, and then had people _see_ her the way she wanted to be seen. “I want to be more like you.”

Thalia flashes him a glance, her eyes glittering with mirth, and charmed. “I am pretty awesome.”

“You are.”

“I had to be a good big sister. I thought I had a two-year-old little brother who’d come to see me someday at Camp Jupiter.” Thalia’s expression softens. The corners of her smile fades, and Jason’s heart aches.

_Be selfish_ , he hears in Nico’s voice. “Let’s get to know each other. When this is all over.”

Thalia stares up at him and nods. “We’ll cross paths again. Not just cross—”

“We’ll be on the same path,” Jason finishes for her.

A new smile curls against Thalia’s face. She throws her arms around him once more, and he hugs back. Jason’s embrace lingers over his sister—and he doesn’t ever want to let go.

*

Nico waltzes over to the log shared by Hazel and Frank, and immediately places himself across from the two demigods. He watches as Frank’s expression flutters into nervousness for a moment before the son of Mars reels away from Hazel. Hazel flashes a glance at Nico, then rolls her eyes.

“Go on,” Nico urges half-heartedly, and the corner of his lips curl into a smile. With the amount of romantic tension he’s seen aboard the ship, one sensible couple puts his heart at ease. Off in the far distance, he watches Annabeth, Percy, and Reyna conversing. Even from yards away, he can _feel_ Reyna’s eyes roll to the back of her head as she watches their son of Neptune interact with the daughter of Athena. It’s palpable.

Frank inspects him carefully. The Blessing of Mars has made him leaner and look more like a child of Rome, but the way his lips contort fearfully will always remind Nico of their first meeting.

“I was serious about what I said,” Nico insists, and he crosses his arms over his gold chestplate. “You’ve proven your worth plenty on this ship. Rome is lucky to have you.”

Despite Frank’s meek face, he and Hazel look at each other and suddenly share a laugh. “Rome is lucky to have _you—”_

“No, we’re talking about you right now.” Nico’s heart warms as Frank looks at him with bewilderment, and the smile doesn’t fade from his face. He gestures to Hazel, who’d looked between the two demigods with curiosity. “Thank you for taking care of my sister when I can’t. Not that she needs to be protected.”

Against the campfire, Hazel’s lips curl into a golden smile. She curls an arm around Frank’s and kisses him on the cheek. “Give us a few minutes?”

Frank looks between the two of them, and under the glow of the campfire, his cheeks warm. He stands to his feet, giving Nico one happy look, and disappears.

“Frank’s a good guy,” Nico offers. He settles on the log beside his sister and watches her laugh. Her hair sways in the wind, and Nico thinks how many years have passed with the gusts against her tree branches.

“He told me you weren’t sure about commanding the roman army.”

Nico’s cheeks blaze. “Well, I wasn’t.”

“ _Nico_ ,” Hazel says. There’s a light chiding there that reminds him of when he’s done it to himself. She places a hand on his, and the amusement morphs into worry. “You’ve spent every waking moment of our relationship telling me how great and amazing that I am. Why can’t you allow yourself the same compliments?”

“I get complimented all the time.” Nico gestures to Percy and Reyna.

“Do you actually _listen_?”

“Well—” Nico’s cheeks redden and his hand curls. “Does that matter?”

Hazel’s smile softens as she looks at him. “It matters.”

Nico reels his thoughts in and leans against her warmth. He prepares himself with the same explanation that he gave Jason not too long ago. “I’ve always had three camp leaders to fall back on. There’s no _reason_ for me to step up and take that role.”

“Not like Bianca.”

The mention of his— _their_ sister makes Nico peer back at her. A couple of months ago, Hazel was reluctant to bring up Bianca’s name, in fear of Nico’s nerves. Now, she stares at him, her expression calm as she pulls a lock of hair behind her ear.

He thinks back to Jason’s memories—and the shameful hope that the prophecy was about her instead. There’s more weight to Bianca’s name for Jason—after the Lotus Casino, as a daughter of Zeus, and as one of Jason’s best friends. A friend that Jason grew to loathe.

Nico looks at Hazel and notices the sadness in her smile.

“I,” Nico starts slowly, “hear that she wasn’t in that role very long.”

“She wasn’t,” Hazel confirms. “Annabeth told me as much.”

She leaves it at that, and Nico thinks back to Annabeth’s words. Jason listened to no one after Luke left—only Bianca, before she left, too. Nico’s gaze carries back to the tree, where he sees the Grace siblings and his heart aches.

“I sleep in the same bed she did when she lived at Camp Halfblood.”

Nico cocks his head back to Hazel.

“Jason told me she was as uncertain about her role as a daughter of Zeus the same way I am. Was.” Hazel chews on the inside of her mouth. “I’m never going to be powerful like Bianca.”

“Hazel, you’re—”

“I’m going to be powerful as _me._ ” The edge of her lip lifts and she nudges him softly. “You’ve played to your strengths this entire time, big brother. Percy, Reyna, and Thalia all talk you up for a reason.”

The words make Nico’s cheeks burn. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m a big brother now?”

“Do you not want to be?” She gives Nico’s hand a firm squeeze. There’s a difference in the way Hazel treats him. Percy once joked that they needed to figure out if Nico was a little brother or a big brother. He thinks he sits on this log now, an equal. Two people that were compared to Bianca di Angelo for many reasons—and they were both the ones doing the comparisons.

“I’m your brother,” Nico supplies, and he shakes his head. “And you’re my sister. You could teach me way more about our powers than I know.”

Hazel stares at him.

“We both have our strengths.” Nico corrects himself, and she smiles. He can’t help feeling a sense of pride for Hazel. She used to stare at him with lost eyes, trying to cement herself in this century. “I’m glad you’ve found a place here. And someone who makes you happy.”

Red glows in her cheeks. “Leo told me you two used to be together.”

Ah. “Um.”

“He said you two weren’t the best fit,” Hazel continues, and each word makes Nico more uncomfortable. “You two brought the worst out of each other.”

“We did,” Nico admits, and his voice climbs an octave.

“You two should listen to each other. Maybe you’d like what you’d have to hear. Or—” Hazel blows a lock of hair out of her face, the exasperation apparent. “—maybe you’ll want to kill each other all over again. It comes and goes between the two of us.”

Nico snorts. But then he thinks about the pause and look of concern Leo had given him earlier. He sucks in a deep breath and sinks in his seat. “We didn’t know how to talk to each other.”

“Would you—?”

“No,” Nico responds breezily, before the suggestion of rekindling a relationship with his ex can come up. Hazel studies him but doesn’t push it. Feeling more comfortable with himself, a smile curls against Nico’s lips. “Love’s probably not in the cards for me. I’m okay with that.”

Hazel arches one cinnamon eyebrow. “Didn’t you just fight the God of Love?”

“Yes, and he was a headache.” Nico wrinkles his nose, and Hazel only laughs. “I’m happy if you’re happy, Hazel.”

She looks back at him, the campfire paling in comparison to the sunset in her eyes. Hazel smiles warmly at him and kisses him on the cheek. “I’m happy when you’re happy, too.”

Far beneath the trees, Nico watches as Thalia pulls Jason into a hug. He thinks back to Percy and Thalia showering him with love and affection from the moment he stepped foot on camp—and the gifts of rainbow stickers and trinkets they presented him with when he first came. Jason’s smile is warm with Thalia’s embrace.

“Maybe there is someone out there for you,” Hazel says softly. “Someone you feel like you can talk to.”

Nico scoffs softly, though with no maliciousness. “You’re forgetting, Hazel. That person should want to talk to _me_ , too.”

*

Darkness is still over the horizon as Jason begins tying ropes around the Athena Parthenos. He messes with the bind until it feels taut in his hand, then looks at the statue. Another pair of hands suddenly appear beside him, and Annabeth makes quick work on an array of other knots.

The edge of Jason’s lips curls into a smile. “You’re a lot better at that than I am.”

“Apparently it’s one of my talents as a Child of Minerva,” Annabeth replies wryly. Her tattoo gleams brightly against her arm under the moonlight.

Jason himself fixated on the mark burned against the other demigod’s arms and has to shove away all of the feelings of guilt that come with it. A silence falls between them. A comfortable one.

“Did you like it there?” he asks quietly. He fumbles with a knot and watches as she leans over and fixes it for him.

“I did,” Annabeth admits—though she leans back and rubs the mark on her arm, like a phantom pain. “But it felt weird. Everyone looked at me so suspiciously, like I didn’t belong there. I mean—we’re literally staring at the _Virgin Athena_ right now. No one—”

“No one believed that you could come out of a goddess’s head?” Jason finishes for her, and he watches as her eyes light up with a familiar irritation. It makes sense to him that Annabeth would have been swapped—she’s as proud as a daughter of Athena as Reyna is as a daughter of Bellona.

“ _No one_ ,” Annabeth says with ferocity, and it reminds Jason of the argument she once had with Clarisse when he was seven and she was eight.

Jason can’t help but chuckle, and he watches as Annabeth’s irate scowl melts into a laughter as well.

Then, she asks, “Is that how you felt being at camp?”

His hands pause, fingers practically getting caught between the loops. Jason burns a hole in the twine with his eyes, and the back of his throat dries. They’d talked in Thalia’s cabin a few nights ago—which was really more of Annabeth refusing to leave, no matter what words were said or left unspoken. By the end of the short visit, the message Annabeth wanted to relay was short, but direct. _I miss you._ He missed her too—even on the days where he was relieved they didn’t have to speak. Those days reminded him how lonely he felt.

This time, Annabeth doesn’t let him freeze up. She reaches over once more and gingerly helps unknot his fingers. “You came to a camp that acknowledged you existed but didn’t make room for you. When they knew the Great Prophecy was _about_ you.” 

“They made room for me,” Jason insists. “The satyrs. And the Hermes Cabin.”

“Cabin One and Cabin Three were empty until Bianca showed up. _You’re_ the one who slayed Kronos.” Annabeth leans into his circle of vision, and he catches a glimpse of her golden hair. Long ago, before he started accepting his lineage, Jason thinks his hair used to be as gold and his skin as warm. Now, they’re as different as can be. “It was painful for me, realizing they didn’t even have a temple for my mother. Yet Juno and Mars vouched for me.”

“And you became praetor,” Jason reminds her.

“A leadership role I wasn’t even aiming for,” Annabeth retorts softly. “Sound familiar?”

Jason sighs into the air, steadying himself against the statue. He glances over the horizon, watching as both Hazel and Nico hold each other close beside the campfire. One full conversation with Nico di Angelo was suddenly leaving him more exposed than he expected to feel. _Wanted_ to feel.

But it was good to feel open with Thalia. Thalia is his sister.

And…it’s good to feel open with Annabeth, too. At some point they were friends. Best friends.

He thinks back to the earlier conversation that she held with Reyna and Hazel. All three of them had been watching him at camp—and Jason realizes he laid himself out more without trying to. They were all worried about him but respected his boundaries. He feels bad now, putting them at an arm’s distance. “Everyone looked at me because I was the first child of the Big Three that they’d seen in generations. I didn’t want to disappoint them.”

Annabeth weighs his words and startles him by squeezing his hand. Jason hadn’t realized she was still holding it. “You said you felt stuck.”

Jason’s demeanor falters. “I was.”

“Did you feel stuck with the second war, too?”

“I…” Jason swallows the lump in his throat. He can still remember the steely look Annabeth gave him when he came to New Rome after her quest. He’d _lied_ about not knowing her, on top of their other issues. Back then, if Percy hadn’t punched him, Jason’s sure Annabeth would’ve happily cut off his fingers, knuckle-by-knuckle.

“You were caught in the middle of that, too,” Annabeth says gently, “when Hades showed you Camp Jupiter.”

“It was the Fates’ will,” Jason says, but he doesn’t protest. He turns to lean against the statue, and stares at her. Annabeth scrutinizes him carefully—and he faintly wonders if she’s been doing that since the war. “Just like how Hera saw it fit to swap both you and Reyna.”

Annabeth snorts. She bows her head and kicks her foot into the dirt. “What good that did. You ended up with a bloody nose and I ended up with a headache as Percy Jackson.”

“He’s nice.”

“He _punched you._ ”

“He meant well.” Though Jason’s nostril twitches with a ghost ache and he can’t help but brush his fingers over it. “Thalia and Nico sing his praises all the time. They’re good people and credit him for it.”

Her frown flattens ever so slightly, her gaze suddenly narrowed at the son of Neptune from afar. “You told him about the chariots.”

“Do you have less of a headache?”

Annabeth smiles weakly.

“Don’t worry about Percy,” Jason says. He briefly thinks of the gladius that was given to him before entering Diocletian’s Palace. The frustration behind Percy’s voice was clear—he needed _one_ good thing to go right after losing their praetors and going after Hazel. That meant keeping Nico safe. “We get each other. We’ll just have to get along from afar now.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No. I think Nico already did.” Percy had been far less combative of him after the eidolons. After Eros especially, the son of Neptune held his tongue more when they were in the same room. Jason sought comfort in Thalia’s cabin, if only to get away from Percy’s evil eye—and it startled him the first time he saw Nico glare back at Percy.

“Does Nico know about Luke?”

At the mention of Luke’s name, Jason tenses again. He doesn’t turn as red in the face as he used to at Luke’s name—not like when he was ten an obsessed with that smile. The good memories with Luke still make butterflies flutter in his stomach, but those feel further away. Eros is right. There’s a hole in his chest after his heart was shattered on his birthday.

He remembers the jealousy he felt every time Annabeth and Luke interacted, and when Luke would fuss over her instead of him. At the end of the night, Jason would smugly remind himself that _he_ got to fall asleep in Luke’s arms. It was the one good thing about having to stay in the Hermes Cabin instead of having his own.

In the end, neither Annabeth nor he won that battle.

Jason bites the inside of his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees Annabeth’s hands curling and uncurling. She doesn’t go for her knife like she has been—Annabeth had been especially harsh with it since the first war. He thinks— _knows_ —that she carries it in memory of Luke, but it’s still hard to look at.

His hands are trembling again. Jason doesn’t realize it until Annabeth reaches out to curl her fingers over them. The touch is soft—and reminds him of when they would run through Camp Halfblood, hand-in-hand and full of laughter.

“Does he know why you don’t fight anymore?” Annabeth asks softly.

“If I have to raise a sword again, I will,” Jason protests. He shakes his head and begins to pull away, but Annabeth laces their fingers together. “It’s going to be a long journey to Camp Halfblood. I can’t expect Nico to _defend_ us the entire way.”

He can’t expect too much out of his own wishes—otherwise he’ll end up driving Nico away the same way he drove Bianca away.

Annabeth takes in his words, but her demeanor doesn’t change. The wrinkle appears between her brow. “But will you be okay?”

The words dissolve in Jason’s throat again as he mulls over Annabeth’s question. He’s reminded of holding the hilt of his borrowed gladius between his fingers. It felt wrong. “I _am_ the best swordsman at Camp Halfblood.”

Annabeth stares into him like she’d done after Luke left, and how she did when Hazel and he appeared at Temple Hill. She knows him, and it scares him. “We’re going to talk when this war is over. _Really_ talk.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then I’ll talk and you’ll listen.” Annabeth pulls her grasp away and places her hand against the Athena Parthenos gently between her fingers. Her eyebrows furrow together and she looks back to him again, gray eyes coming to a lull at the end of a storm. “We’re the only two people who understand what happened that day.”

Luke’s death. Jason’s birthday. _That_ day. Jason averts his eyes, but Annabeth touches him again.

“I _told_ you, Jason,” Annabeth urges, and her voice is gentle. “You’ve always been good. _All_ good. That includes Hades, too.”

Jason swallows the lump in his throat. “Okay. We’ll talk, I promise.”

The smile she gives is full of warmth. He didn’t realize how much he missed it.

*

Thalia’s goodbye is the hardest.

Dawn peeks over the horizon, and Nico knows it’s selfish to prolong their stay any further. The Argo II crew is weary, but they’re ready to see Nico and Jason off. He makes sure to pack extra ambrosia squares from the kitchen, an extra change of clothes (an extra cape, upon Reyna’s insistence) and a set of enchanted plates. At the bottom of a hill, the Athena Parthenos stands, strategically roped with different knots. Nico sees Annabeth and Jason securing the last of the binds, while Thalia watches off to the side.

Nico trudges towards the daughter of Pluto.

She doesn’t startle. Instead, Thalia turns to him, giving the same smile she did when they reunited. “I heard you slept in my cabin while I was gone.”

“I missed you.”

“I also heard you made him sleep in my bed.” Thalia flanks a finger in Jason’s direction, her expression withering to worry. Jason doesn’t look up—Nico only notices how close both Greek demigods are kneeling now.

“He confined himself to the stables,” Nico explains. “I think it was a form of punishment.”

Thalia’s features soften. “He hardly told me about himself when we met. I think he was more afraid than he let on.”

“He doesn’t like people in his head.” Nico never would have found himself _in_ Jason Grace’s head without Eros’s interference. A wave of guilt still washes over him when he thinks about it. They’d gone to Diocletian’s Palace on his suggestion, and he’d scrunched his nose when Jason declared, _you need me._

Thalia turns her gaze and studies him, her dark eyebrows furrowing together. “You sound like you know firsthand.”

“Just your typical life-altering quest that makes you want to puke.” Nico smiles grimly, but he doesn’t delve further. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready, Thalia. You waited for me, too. Remember?”

His thoughts wander back to his first days at camp, where he remained a sorry sight at the infirmary and was still trying to process his situation after following one Thalia, daughter of Pluto. 

1940s. Demigod. Son of Jupiter. Dead sister. Nico spent every moment crying and missing Bianca—and Thalia spent the lulls asking about things that made him happy. Pirates. Mythomagic. Cookies. Hugs, from mama. Hugs from his big sister. (Thalia had tears in her eyes and from then on, held onto him each time he felt a wave of sadness hit him.)

Thalia absorbs his words and throws an arm around him. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

“I had a good influence.” Nico’s own expression falters, his cheek against her bicep. Thalia only holds him tighter.

“I’m not _that_ good,” Thalia teases. “Otherwise you’d finally walk around camp in a Bullet for My Valentine t-shirt.”

“I got a piercing, didn’t I?”

“All the better to track you with.” Thalia touches the imperial gold stud affectionately. She places both her hands over Nico’s armor-cladded shoulders, her smile fading. “Come back to me, okay?”

Nico shrivels in her presence. He’s always loved her for stepping up as his big sister when he lost the one he grew up with, but knowing more about Thalia makes the words hit harder. He thinks back to running out of the Lotus Casino, her dark eyes filled with worry and the firm promise to keep him safe. It’s a promise that she’s never broken. “Always.”

At that moment, Jason pulls away from the Virgin Athena and wipes the sweat off his brow. He raises to his feet and Nico and he make eye contact for the first time since the Necromanteion. He hesitates moving—and Thalia beckons him anyway.

“C’mere, little brother,” she says.

Jason glances her direction, then peels away from Annabeth’s side. Thalia throws her other arm around the son of Hades.

“Protect each other,” Thalia orders. Her grip is so tight around Nico’s shoulders that he could hardly breathe. When he looks over to Jason, he sees the same result—and the son of Hades’s face is practically turning purple. “Okay?”

Nico wheezes. “Thalia—”

“—we can’t protect each other if we’re _dead_ ,” Jason rasps, and he wobbles under her grip.

Thalia looks between the two of them, and her lips break into a grin. Nico’s had to reassure Reyna and Percy that he trusts the son of Hades—but Thalia sees it without prying. “Good teamwork already.”

Nico glances towards Jason briefly and notices the other demigod twitch. Under the morning dawn, Jason’s skin glows a ghostly pale, his hair almost blending flesh. He thinks Jason looks at him less now than before the Eros incident—and finds himself wondering what’s going on in that head.

One-by-one, the rest of the Argo II crew gathers. Leo practically makes a beeline towards Nico and drops a watch in his hand.

Nico stares at it, startled. “What—”

“A _shield_ , Steve Rogers.” Leo folds his arms, his lips curling with amusement. “You annoy me, but I’d rather you not die.”

Nico wrinkles his nose, but he straps the watch to his wrist. “I annoy _you_?”

“If he does die,” Leo suddenly turns to Jason, dismissing their conversation, “is that better for you? A Ghost Prince?”

Again, Jason turns his gaze to Nico. The corner of his lip twitches, and suddenly he’s staring at with the same intensity as before. “Not really, no.”

“Bummer. Don’t _die_ then, got it?” Leo shoves his hands in his toolbelt and kicks his foot into dirt. His eyes flicker with a flame—one that Nico never noticed while they were dating. Nico thinks about Hazel’s words. Leo and he brought the worse out of each other, but there were good moments, too.

“Leo—” Jason catches the Son of Vulcan’s attention, his voice gentle. “—after the war, if you want to come live at Camp Halfblood, you could. Cabin Nine could be good for you. You could be around kids your own age and have a family there, too.”

“Kids my own age, huh?” Leo tilts his head thoughtfully, his expression softening for a moment. Nico looks between Jason and Leo and tries not to let his irritation show.

“Think about it,” Jason offers. “Nyssa and Jake would love having you.”

“They _were_ pretty nice. When we weren’t bickering.” Leo unfolds his arms, and then turns to Nico again. “Take care of this one, Nico. He’s forgetful.”

Jason grimaces for a brief moment and flinches as Nico’s eyes dart in his direction. Nico doesn’t think he’ll ever understand the friendship between the two of them—but doesn’t pry any further. The son of Hades had been staring at him oddly since Nico appeared.

After that, Hazel and Frank appears. Nico’s reminded of the day he said goodbye to the Argo II, when he watched his sister and his three favorite people climb aboard for the first time. His heart aches as much as much as it did back then.

Hazel hugs him tightly, pressing her cheek against his own. “Play to your strengths, brother.”

“You too, sis.” Nico hugs Hazel tightly, finding it hard to peel away. From the corner of his eye, he watches Annabeth hand off a backpack of preparations to Jason. Annabeth throws her arms around a surprised Jason, and they both smile nervously to each other.

Percy claps two hands on Nico’s shoulders, then yanks him into a hug. “Miss you already.”

“Miss you too.” Nico watches as Percy’s eyes drift tentatively to Jason, and he wrinkles his nose. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” Percy insists. “I trust you.”

Reyna appears, well-rested after a night of slumber, with both Aurum and Argentum at her sides. Both automaton dogs flank towards Nico and he briefly has to do a double take. She smiles at him, the pride still brimming in her eyes. “Did you pack enough ambrosia squares?”

“And backup ambrosia squares,” Nico reassures. “You’ve taught me well.”

Aurum nudges Jason’s hand briefly, startling the demigod. Nico holds back a smile—Aurum prefers Thalia, too.

“I want them to come with you for extra protection,” Reyna explains. She raises her gaze to Jason and they share a somber look. “If that’s okay.”

“What’s two dogs compared to a forty-foot statue?” Jason grins as he looks back to the daughter of Bellona. He pets Aurum’s head gently and Nico has to remind himself that the two automatons stayed at Camp Halfblood beforehand. They _knew_ Jason.

Lastly, Gleeson Hedge trots in their direction with a bindle over his shoulder and scraps of tin etched into his goatee. Upon closer inspection, Nico realizes the stick is actually a wooden club. “Alright, Cupcakes! I’m fully rested and raring to go!”

Nico blinks. He raises his gaze to Jason.

“Uncle Gleeson’s wife is expecting,” Jason explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He wants to be at Camp Halfblood for Chuck’s birth.”

“Plus it’s my _job_ to protect you!” Hedge pounds his chest barbarically. Nico once saw a faun step on a flower and mourn its death.

His reaction is so _audible_ that Nico doesn’t realize Reyna is touching his shoulder until she talks. Her eyebrows furrow together, and she smiles sheepishly. “He’s actually pretty good at it.”

“Uncle?” Nico whips his head over to Jason, who soaks up his reaction with amusement.

“I was raised by satyrs,” Jason says, like it’s supposed to be a valid explanation.

“You were raised by _fauns_?”

“PAH! Fauns! Peace loving hippies!” Hedge spits on his hoof and juts his chest out. “Everyone knows that nature is about natural selection! The call of the wild! Animals, beating up other animals! I taught Grace here his mean left hook!”

Silence. Nico stares at Gleeson Hedge, the fau—the _satyr_ —in disbelief. In the background, he hears Leo and Percy erupting in laughter, while Thalia is doing her best to stifle her sniggers.

“Go ahead, Grace!” Hedge yanks Jason’s hand eagerly. “Punch me in the face!”

Jason doesn’t even flinch—he smiles at _Uncle Gleeson,_ charmed. Nico can’t tell if being raised by satyrs explains Jason less or more.

“Except—” Annabeth erupts from the circle around them and places herself between satyr and demigod. “Jason doesn’t fight anymore. Remember, Gleeson?”

“Right—Grace doesn’t fight anymore.” Coach Hedge looks genuinely disappointed. He touches the bill of his baseball cap and raises his gaze once more. “So, I’ll protect you. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

There’s a heartwarming moment being shared between Jason and Hedge. Nico briefly thinks back to the little boy in the woods who was interacting with monsters without a care in the world. Luke Castellan was the only one that didn’t say it was _wrong._

Still, Percy makes a noise. “I’ve never heard of a faun protecting a demigod.”

“You _haven’t_ , they’re trash guardians! And not in the good way!” Coach Hedge insists. “We satyrs are much better!”

At that declaration, Nico finds himself conceding. He chalks it up as a _Greek_ thing and shakes his head tiredly.

The Seven demigods distance themselves from the Athena Parthenos, while Nico finds himself fastened in rope beside the son of Hades. He jumps again as Jason’s cold touch reaches for his fingers. When he looks up, he notices the hesitation in Jason’s gaze.

“Sorry—”

“No, I was just surprised.” Nico reaches out and grabs Jason’s hand more firmly. It’s as cold as ice, if not colder. He watches Jason twitch for a moment, as though having a similar reaction to his own. Nico’s hand must burn in comparison.

Jason’s eyes lift briefly, and his gaze meets both Annabeth and Thalia. Nico tries not to stare. If he does, then he thinks it’ll be impossible for him to leave. Instead, he focuses on Jason’s steady breath, and the pulse beneath his thumb. Jason’s complexion glows under fleeting starlight, with Diocletian’s staff tucked in one beltloop, and a gladius tucked in another. The sword is as polished as the day Percy gave it to him.

“I can protect you too,” Nico finds himself saying.

The shadows are already flittering across the ground, guiding them in as Jason turns his head. Pale eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What?”

“You won’t have to raise a sword again,” Nico rephrases. He’s felt Jason’s hands tremble too many times in his own. It breaks his heart each time. “I’ll make sure of it.”

To his surprise, Jason’s eyes darken. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Nico. Not for my sake.”

“But—”

“We’ll protect each other.” Under the rising sun, Jason’s irises lighten. The shadows carve a smile across his face—along with gentle admiration that makes Nico’s heart skip a beat.

With that, they descend into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a brief interlude with siblings for skipping straight to BOO, but it got away from me (as most chapters do.) Hope you guys enjoy all the sibling moments! They're really the best part about this AU, I think. 8) [Here's an art](https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/619639968690847744/this-godswap-au-is-still-sustaining-me-these-big) from ariihen from the last chapter!!


	7. photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico falls silent. To Jason’s surprise, Nico reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. At first, Jason can’t see it—Nico cradles it carefully between his hands, nimble fingers fluttering gently about the edges. Then, Nico hands the photo to Jason, and Jason feels himself falling back in time to the day he took it.
> 
> Bianca, reveling in her peter pan collared dress and booties, smiling at the end of a storm. Freckles paint her face like constellations. Central Park. The sky was white after the end of a storm, much like her name, and she reveled in getting out of Camp Halfblood because she felt like she could never breathe there.
> 
> “Is it time to talk about her?” Nico asks softly.

On their second trip, Jason almost lands them in Mount Vesuvius. His head lulls to the side, chilling and pounding with the hissing of shadows cloaking him like a second layer of skin. The wind suffocates them as they plummet, twenty feet above the opening of a volcano.

“…son— _JASON!”_ Nico’s voice rings true between his ears like an electrifying current, and a tiny jolt shocks Jason awake with a squeak. “ _WAKE UP!”_

The next thing Jason knows, he’s getting blasted with a flurry of air, like being punched in the face by Favonius himself. Nico sends them toppling down the side of the volcano. The statue glows with an iridescent light—deflecting every blow with each impact, and they look like a twenty-foot wide bouncy ball as they barrel.

Jason’s head spins with a painful headache—and suddenly another wave of gust hits from below, slowing their descent into a clumsy halt. His head slams into the back of the Athena Parthenos and Jason does all he can not to puke. He groans, his hand touching the base of his neck.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks. Jason’s vaguely aware of the son of Jupiter’s warm hand in his own, gripped so tightly that Jason can barely feel his own pulse.

“I’m—fine,” Jason rasps, and his throat burns with volcanic winds.

A memory comes back to him—his stomach aching and bare while he choked down fiery water from the Phlegethon. An encouraging whisper in his left ear, and a menacing hiss in the right.

“We should get out of here before the people of Pompeii notice,” Nico says, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Can you shadowtravel?”

Jason doesn’t answer. Not right away.

“Jason,” Nico says again, his voice urgent.

“Kid,” Uncle Gleeson says, “keep sharp!”

“Y—Yeah,” Jason stammers. His vision is blurry in the corners of his eyes. He looks around the layers of volcanic rock and the black beneath his feet, then the shadow casted back at his feet. A warmth fills his palm, and Jason looks over to see the look in Bianca’s—

_Nico’s_ eyes.

“You’ve got this,” Nico says.

Jason focuses all of the energy into the pit of his stomach, and they plummet into darkness.

*

They set camp for the night in the outskirts of Pompeii. Jason’s head throbs so hard that it could split in two, like the gods. He doesn’t realize he’s still strapped into the Athena Parthenos until Nico is beside him, undoing the ropes around his arms. As the strain releases from Jason’s shoulders, he heaves, and a sigh scrapes against the back of his throat, like broken glass dragging against concrete.

Nico takes a knee when Jason collapses (when did he collapse?) and he reaches out with a water bottle. “You’re putting too much strain on yourself. Rest.”

The water is like an iceberg compared to the volcano. Jason swallows most of it in one disgusting gulp and keeps his distance away from the campfire as Uncle Gleeson begins roasting tortillas. “We can get going after dinner.”

When he drank the water quickly, Coach Hedge and Nico pretended not to notice. Now they both look at him as though he’s grown a second head.

“Uh, kid?” Uncle Gleeson asks casually. “I’m all for mortal peril and beating stuff up, but we were almost smoked barbecue two seconds ago.”

The reminder of volcanic ash slithers down Jason’s throat, and he curls his hands into fists before they can tremble. “We need to get the Athena Parthenos to Camp Halfblood as soon as possible. I’ll be more focused this time.”

Unfortunately, as soon as the words come out of Jason’s mouth, Nico decides to cherry pick what he likes. “So you weren’t focused.”

Jason’s throat dries. He looks down to the son of Jupiter and is met with a frown.

Blue eyes narrow at Jason, icy and suspicious under the night sky. The other emotion is there too—the one that’s been in Nico’s gaze since Eros. “Why weren’t you focused?”

Jason doesn’t answer. He stares into the hue of Nico’s gaze, a lump suddenly swelling in his throat. He feels the heat of the campfire against his cheeks again, and the unbearable air of _Tartarus_ suddenly prickles skin. The whispers skitter in the corners of his ears, and his fingers twitch at his sides.

“Well, di Angelo here must be tired from punching us in the face with the winds,” Uncle Gleeson declares. He shoots Jason a steely look. “Isn’t that right, di Angelo?”

Fortunately, it’s enough to pull Nico away from his query. He turns to the satyr, appreciative. “You’re right, Coach. Manipulating the winds _does_ make me tired.”

“You cupcakes and your lack of stamina! They don’t train you well enough at that Roman camp!” Uncle Gleeson waves his fist menacingly, but after years of being raised by the Cloven Elders, Jason knows the barking is all that it is. A bark, but no bite. Uncle Gleeson’s gaze lingers once more, and it softens the way it did when Annabeth talked to him only a few days prior. “I’ll take first watch.”

Between the sharp gaze of his uncle and the son of Jupiter, Jason’s shoulders deflate. A heaviness overcomes him, and he forfeits.

Laying under the shadow of the Athena Parthenos, her gray eyes remind Jason of Annabeth. He thinks back to all of the questions she asked him before Nico and he departed. All of the things that made it hard to look her in the eye. _Most_ people in the eye. They’re supposed to have a serious talk after the war is over, if the both of them manage to survive this.

And _if_ is a big word. Jason knows too many people that didn’t. He’s felt too many people die.

The ropes around the stature are tight and strategic, all knotted in a way to work together. Jason knows he wouldn’t have been able to do it himself or nearly as well—but those are ropes. If it weren’t for the magical properties of the Athena Parthenos, they’d likely be dead. Nico di Angelo and Gleeson Hedge’s death would be on Jason’s head.

And Thalia would _definitely_ not forgive him. Not this time.

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Before Jason can protest, Nico unfurls a sleeping bag beside him and plops down.

They both smell like burnt flesh. The edge of Nico’s purple cloak is mottled with singe marks, already stained from their first encounter. Jason wonders what his own face looks like. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d lost a few hairs.

“I’m sorry,” Jason says quietly. “I should have been paying more attention to where I was shadowtraveling.”

Nico shoots him a look, lips contorting into a frown. Then, he shakes his head, and he settles easily into the bag. “Don’t do that.”

Jason matches the frown. “Do what?”

“Bear the weight of the twenty-foot statue on your own.” Nico pushes back up against the sleeping bag. “You said that we were going to protect _each_ _other_ on this quest. That means _relying_ on each other, too. I got us out of the situation in the nick of time. We’re fine.”

They sit in a strange silence after that. Nico’s been different since Split. Jason had come to the conclusion that there was never going to be a friendship there like with Bianca—based on the way Nico would scowl and glare at him. Jason toed too many lines, from bringing up the late daughter of Zeus to hiding both camps. He knows that Nico is one of Thalia’s fiercest protectors—but he’s not sure how to feel about Nico promising to protect him, too.

“How do you think they’re doing?” Nico asks finally. There’s no question to whom he’s referring to.

“Better,” Jason says, “with Thalia and Reyna on board.”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees softly, “with Thalia and Reyna together.”

There’s disappointment in his voice. In the brief moment after the Necromanteion, when they were able to enjoy a picnic together, Jason almost forgot that they were close to the end of the world (again.) Thalia, Reyna, Percy, and Nico bickered like children. Annabeth and he were able to talk, even if he didn’t say much.

Hazel looked happy with Frank, finally able to find her place in the world after so many years asleep. Even Leo, who Jason had plucked from a booth in the Forum looked more like a mischievous kid hanging out with teenagers versus the stories he told about being adopted by the blacksmiths in New Rome. Jason hopes the son of Vulcan truly considers moving to Cabin Nine.

Thalia and he…Jason’s never had a big sister before. But he thinks he’d never felt as safe and protective of someone the way he feels about her.

“We’ll see them at the end of this,” Jason says. “I’m sure of it. We have to do our part to make sure there isn’t a war.”

Nico’s quiet. He stares down at the clasped hands over his lap and nods quietly. “Yeah.”

It’s hard to tell what Nico’s thinking. Jason’s reminded of what he’s heard time and time again from Percy and Thalia, when Jason thought he’d ruined his first impression with the son of Jupiter. Even if Jason’s said the words, the optimism has felt stifled for a long time. He’s not sure if he believes himself, either. Jason has watched too many people die in the years leading up to Kronos. Maybe they should’ve stayed longer in case things went south for the Seven.

He swallows hard. “I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer.”

“Don’t be.” Nico’s eyes dart back to Jason quickly, and he settles into his sleeping bag, armor and all. “Things are different during times of war. Things…” His face scrunches and he gazes elsewhere. “Things don’t always stay the same, like times of peace.”

There’s a sourness to his tone that doesn’t go unmissed.

Jason couldn’t agree fast enough. “Yeah.”

He’s always wondered how different life would be without the war. As of late, he’s wondered what it would be like if he was able to grow up with his sister. Maybe Beryl Grace wouldn’t have died a horrid death. Or maybe Thalia could have brought him to Camp Jupiter, too. He would’ve been around someone who embraced her parentage and herself as one unit—rather than how he tries to hold himself at Camp Halfblood—as Jason Grace, year-rounder since age two and Jason Grace, son of Hades.

“You’re doing it again,” Nico chides, when Jason is quiet too long. He stares at Jason from the corner of his eye, warning in his tone.

Jason touches his head with the tips of his fingers. He tries to smile, but his lips refused—far too exhausted from the last few jumps. “Consider my thoughts muted.”

He means that as a joke, but Nico’s demeanor doesn’t change. Blue eyes observe him from the sleeping bag, hands folded together. There’s a glint in there that drills into Jason far too easily—ever since Split. The one arrow Eros had shot at him pierced a hole in Jason’s chest, and Nico took in a lot with one small peek.

“If we’re going to be traveling together,” Nico says finally, “we need to be focused. Both of us.”

Jason shifts uncomfortably in his patch of grass.

“So,” Nico continues, “if there’s a _reason_ why you weren’t able to focus over the volcano, you can tell me. You… _should_ tell me.”

His tone is gentle. The expression on Nico’s face is an echo of what Jason’s received _since_ Split. For how soft and patient Nico’s voice is, it rattles Jason more than the scowling did. Because this means Nico is paying attention to him. Far more than Jason ever intended or expected.

“I’ll be better after some rest.” Jason slides until his back is against the grass. He stares upwards at the sky, watching the many stars that dot the darkness. The dirt holds a rich, earthy scent to it, far off from the soot of Mount Vesuvius. He can hear the bugs fluttering—and it makes him think of grassy summers in Halfblood Hill.

There’s a pregnant pause between Nico and him. But then, Nico sidles, curling onto his side next to Jason. “Wake me up if you get a nightmare, Jason.”

The way Nico says his name now is also unsettling. It’s so familiar that Jason would never think there was tension between them in the first place.

And it’s not a suggestion. They’re quiet instructions, like Nico had given him when they were still doing this in Thalia’s cabin. “Okay.”

Except there aren’t breaks in their days with monster attacks or a sudden angry goddess cursing out Percy Jackson and swearing revenge. Nico broke up his days on the Argo II between Percy, Hazel, and the rest of the crew. Annabeth made her way to the cabins when Jason was resting. For the rest of this quest, it’d just be Nico and he, 24/7. Nico, and Jason’s head. Nico’s blue eyes, which reminded him _so much of Bianca_ —and his head.

Jason sighs. He closes his eyes and hopes Nico can’t hear him dreaming.

*

With his rotten luck, he dreams of her.

Strong, amazing Bianca in her yellow peter-pan collared dress and tan booties. There was always a whimsy in the way she smiled, and the gales always danced around her, fluttering about her skirt and long black hair, so that even in utter stillness, the world knew she was alive. She always seemed to float, even as she walked.

They’d kissed once, when they were thirteen—because that felt like the thing to do. Two best friends, two children of the Big Three—a boy and a girl. Except that definitely made Jason’s stomach rot because he worried he could never love someone the way he loved Luke. He could never talk to someone the way he could talk to Luke. All of his fears and nightmares. His anxieties.

He was right. Bianca could never fill the void left by Luke.

But he was also wrong—because Bianca leaving hurt twice as much.

(Bianca had looked disappointed when that kiss happened. Not because of Jason—but because it was just another thing in her life that didn’t _feel_ right. Jason was relieved when they decided to remain friends—and Bianca continued to push and drive him into the eventual destiny of having to slay Kronos—and maybe kill Luke, too.)

Jason sees his fifteen-year-old self—a little lither, a little less weathered by the war, dressed in his father’s leather jacket and white shirt. Bianca never liked the bright orange shirts of Camp Halfblood—the one staple that Jason had in his wardrobe since the age of two. She wanted to be an ordinary girl first and a daughter of Zeus second.

It’s why he remembers her best in her sweet pastel dresses and long locks of hair. Why he gave in, too, in distancing himself from vibrant hues that blanched his complexion—because there were so many days where _he_ wanted to be ordinary first and Hades’s son second.

The pastel skirts always brought out her eyes—because she smiled best, when she didn’t have to think about the prophecy.

She liked to sneak out of camp any time they could, asking Annabeth to cover for them. Liked to remind Jason that they were just teenagers, too, and deserved to do ordinary things like going to the movies or going shopping—or being anywhere than the one safe haven Chiron urged Jason never leave because his scent was so strong. Because he’s known he was a demigod since the age of two, and all that would do is attract monsters.

Like that’d be a bad thing, he used to think. Luke always saw it as an asset.

(Jason had to convince himself to stop thinking that way.)

“We’re going to get in trouble,” Jason used to warn between smiles.

“Who cares?” Bianca used to say. “We need a _break_ from that stuff, don’t you think?”

Camp Halfblood made Bianca di Angelo sad. Because no matter how safe it could make her feel, it would never make her happy without her brother.

So at the age of fifteen, Jason Grace—who found solace in a best friend that also knew the strife of being a Child of the Big Three—would do anything to make her feel happy. Anything to make sure she felt safe. Anything to make sure she didn’t leave—because if she didn’t leave, maybe that meant the prophecy would never be about him. He’d never have to deliver that final blow.

She was different in the months leading to her sixteenth birthday. He’s had this dream so many times, watching as the sadness in the hue of her eyes outweigh the sanctuary of the last four years. Their relationship changed after the Labyrinth, when they thought she’d blown herself into oblivion. Bianca di Angelo had gone airborne and missing for a week—and when she returned, her gaze was frigid. She locked herself in her cabin, like he locked himself away from campers.

Jason can see the evening clearly.

There’s some dramatic irony now—how the two of them used to wander around in the forest and sit beneath Hazel’s big oak tree. Despite hating all the things that reminded Bianca of her prophecy, of what her legacy would mean—Bianca loved to sit under this tree.

Jason remembers how high the moon was above the trees, full and glowing in the darkness of the sky, and the earthy scent of the grass beneath them as they held picnics. They’d pointed out how fireflies were strange to see in the beginnings of spring—but much like Bianca, the summer air of Camp Halfblood was timeless.

He sees his fifteen-year-old self, sitting beside fifteen-year-old Bianca. She’s dressed in her pretty collared dress, and present-day Jason could recite this whole conversation from heart. He can mouth it word-for-word, and still get frustrated at all of the things he didn’t say.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he hears her saying in a rough voice. Her birthday is a month away. They’ve strategized. In the upcoming weeks, everything would end. Everything with Luke—would finally end.

Present-day Jason knows what Bianca’s talking about. Fifteen-year-old him doesn’t. His younger self responds: “We can walk around Zeus’s Fist after this. And then the canoe lake. Maybe it’ll clear your head.”

Bianca’s smile was grim. Only now would he say that it matches Nico to a tee—withering and infuriated with the war. It’s the same harrowing look Nico carries anytime a god mentions his title as a son of Jupiter—and Bianca’s expression changed the moment fifteen-year-old Jason mistakenly mentioned the King of the Gods.

“Jace,” she said, “I’m not staying.”

Fifteen-year-old Jason didn’t understand. His hands were frozen in his lap, and he stared at her in confusion. They talked back and forth about it extensively—Chiron let her go to school, even if he advised against it. Chiron was reluctant to let them leave camp—but he couldn’t stop them.

Jason complied when he was little because Alecto couldn’t take him down to the Underworld to his father’s domain. Of course, they couldn’t _make_ him stay—but he had nowhere to go. No home, like Annabeth. No mortal parent, like most of the other kids at camp. Bianca didn’t care about the rules at Camp Halfblood—she did what she wanted to feel normal.

But as badly as she’d rather be _normal_ , she’d never _not_ be a demigod _._

“Where will you go?” Jason asked her—because he thought they were the same. No siblings, no mortal parent, a strange relationship with their godly parents—no home, outside of Camp Halfblood. They were the same.

“The Huntresses,” Bianca said—and suddenly she was on a path that he couldn’t follow. “My father—the _gods_ —will never mess with my fate again. I’m choosing to swear my life to Artemis. The prophecy will _never_ be about me. I never wanted it.”

_And you think I want it to be about me?_ He desperately wanted to shout. Jason never wanted to _be_ the chosen one or _be_ a hero, or even _be_ a child of Hades. But she’d burrowed herself in Cabin One for weeks after the Labyrinth, locking herself up in a way that reminded him too much like himself after Luke left.

“Don’t leave,” Jason pleaded. “We can face Kronos together.”

She’d laughed, miserable and echoing how Jason felt for years. Her anger and frustration were the underbelly of a storm cloud—all the dark and gray misery blow the pristine white of above. “And then what, Jace?”

He didn’t know. He just didn’t want someone else important to leave him, too. On a path he’d _never_ be able to follow.

“There’s no one waiting for me on the other side of the war, Jace,” Bianca whispered gently. “The best I could do is die. Maybe then I could finally be happy.”

She could finally be with the family Zeus had ripped her away from in Elysium. Except Jason knows better now—that Nico di Angelo never died. He just went west with Thalia, and the eagles dragged Bianca east.

“I’ll be safe from Kronos,” she said to fifteen-year-old Jason—and in the present, Jason desperately wants to tell her that she wasn’t. She died on Luke’s warpath, and she was one of the many reasons why he’s rotting in the Fields of Punishment instead of ever making it to Elysium.

She’d kissed him one last time that night: a chaste brush of her lips against his cheek, promising they were still family. But family shouldn’t want to leave each other. Family should stay together. Family should _stop_ leaving him, like his mother down in the Fields of Asphodel and his big sister waiting for him in Camp Jupiter instead of guiding him there. Instead of Chiron holding his hands out for a small child and telling Alecto she wasn’t welcomed.

But—those were things Jason couldn’t control. That was out of his hands as much as Bianca arriving seventy years into the future and being told the fate of the Gods was in their hands. Except she found an out where he couldn’t.

Jason watched as regal Zoe Nightshade swore her in that night—wary, but smug, to have a powerful huntress at her side. To have a hero forsake fate and make the _wise decision_ to devote herself to one goddess instead. Because it’s what _Bianca_ wanted to do, and Banca did what she wanted. Annabeth hadn’t been too happy with that decision either—but Bianca di Angelo would always be a plan B to Jason slaying Kronos.

“I have to do this,” Bianca said. “For me.”

He didn’t want her to. Jason didn’t want to be the child of prophecy any more than she wanted to be ripped away from her time period, lose her brother and be at the mercy of her dad—but that didn’t matter.

Nico’s right. Things don’t always stay the same during times of war. Maybe Bianca would still be alive if she learned that the way her brother did.

Maybe Jason would hate her less.

*

It’s hard to hate Bianca when she was a guiding force leading him out of Tartarus. He still hears her voice to the left of him, whispering for him to keep going. To keep _ignoring_ Luke and keep _fighting._ Stay alive, even though neither one of them knew what would come the day after Kronos.

There’s a hand shaking him awake. “Jason—wake up. Now.”

He still sees her blue eyes, hue as vibrant as the sky, which could change at a moment’s notice with the rage of a storm. “Bianca…?”

The hand tenses immediately. It threatens to shirk away—

“Bianca—don’t go with the huntresses—” Jason shakes awake, his hands clamping on her shoulders—“Luke—he’s going to—”

Nico stares back at him with those blue eyes, startled. His hands are curled and reeled back, demeanor filled with a flurry of confusion. His voice is tight. “Luke’s going to what?”

Sunlight peeks over the horizon, hues of purples and red streaking through the sky. There’s a culmination of colors, but all Jason can focus on are Nico di Angelo’s eyes, and how they just look _too much_ like his sister’s. His hands dig into Nico’s shoulders—and Jason swallows hard.

“I—” Jason’s throat hurts. He stares at every inch of Nico’s face—at his cheeks, at his eyes, at his hair—thinks of _her_ cheeks, and _her_ eyes, and _her_ hair. “I…”

His voice trails off, dying in his mouth. All Jason can think of is Bianca’s whimsical smile—and the fierceness in her voice, telling him to _keep moving_ in Tartarus despite the anger that’d coiled inside of Jason since she left.

Nico slowly reaches up, his hands lacing far more gently over Jason’s knuckles. “You were thrashing in your sleep. I thought—you looked like were having a nightmare.”

More like a grim reminder of how much he loved and hates his best friend. Jason’s hands shake at Nico’s collarbone, and he’s voiceless, like he was in his dream—his _memory_ —of being unable to convince her to stay. They tremble with a familiar frustration, while Jason tries to separate Bianca from Nico. Can’t.

A boulder splits through the air at a violent speed towards the Athena Parthenos and slams straight into the magical barrier before exploding into a thousand pieces.

“Look out!” Nico shoves Jason into the statue with a surprising amount of strength—then blasts a burst of air above them to redirect the debris.

Jason feels a gust slap him in the face, much like the day before. He coughs as remains of rock fill his lungs, but the ourae aren’t finished.

A cackle rips through the air, and suddenly, Uncle Gleeson stands tall on his hooves. A cold, feminine voice erupts from his mouth. “ _A few seconds not you have.”_

Another rock comes flying towards them, position revealed. The force of it topples the Virgin Athena on her side, and she starts rolling into a valley.

“Great,” Nico grumbles, but then he’s on his feet again, another gust of wind billowing under his cape. He looks over his shoulder briefly, a moment’s worth of hesitation in his eyes because of the mention of his sister—but then he’s waving his arm. “ _Go!_ I’ll follow!”

“Got it.” Jason throws Uncle Gleeson over his shoulder and starts sprinting down the hilltop.

Earth spirits erupt from the ground, cladded in armor made of clay. All the while, Gaea spews curses and threatens that their quest will fail through the satyr’s muzzle. Insults fly out of Uncle Glee-Gaea’s mouth, ridiculing them for trying, taunting them with the possibility of failure, and it’s punctuated with a sick laugh. _“YOU WILL FAIL ON YOUR QUEST, SON OF HADES!”_

“How about a time out, Uncle Gleeson?” Jason wraps his uncle up in taut twine like a hostage. The only thing he has to stifle the goat is old lollipop wrappers from his pocket, which Uncle Gleeson immediately starts chewing.

_“Mm…delicious—I mean—YOUR FATE HAS ALREADY BEEN SEALED!”_

Jason grips one of the many ropes over the Athena Parthenos. “Nico!”

Overhead, he watches as the sky grows dark with intent, as though the sunrise never happened. Storm clouds bleed through the horizon, darkening the shadows at Jason’s feet. The hairs on his arms bristle—and in one quick glance over his shoulder, he sees Nico standing tall, gladius glimmering in his hand with a blast of golden lightning.

Nico cocks his head back to Jason from the height of the hill, and even from yards away, Jason can see the ferocity in those blue eyes. They aren’t like Bianca’s—they’re very much Nico’s, surfing the crowd of earth spirits while a bristling golden blade slices a path.

There are a lot of ghosts. Too many.

Jason whips out Diocletian’s scepter, his hand coiling around the long staff. He shivers, feeling the surge of energy coarse beneath his skin, the coldness dragging beneath his flesh like fingernails scraping against mud. He can _feel_ the age of this scepter—how many armies that it’s summoned in the past. If he closes his eyes, he can _see_ the great Diocletian wielding it.

A burst of energy flourishes through him, amplifying Jason’s own powers. _“Rise_!”

Suddenly, like the Necromanteion, undead Roman soldiers unearth from the ground and rattle the earthen spirits. Nico’s eyes cut down from the hilltop, and he holds his crackling sword like a beacon, garnering the attention of the soldiers that died centuries ago.

“ _Legion_!” Nico shouts, more confident than last time. “ _Agmente Formate!”_

His voice is as booming as the thunderclouds above him. The zombie legionnaires do what they did last time, clacking their swords and shields together in a menacing manner before charging at the earthen spirits. Jason feels the chill through his chest, his fingers growing numb over the white scepter.

Even if Nico doesn’t think of himself as a leader, he’s a formidable soldier, trained only by the best as he pierces through spirits swiftly and causes them to crumble into a pile of dust. Nico shouts orders, commandeering an army with ease, while the purple cloak flies behind him as he sprints towards Jason and the Virgin Athena.

Zombie legionnaires fall in line to the gleam of the praetor armor. Jason watches as the earthen spirits combat them. He sees the legionnaire raise their swords, sees the spirits attack with their bare hands, sees the tense battle between undead soldier and mother earth’s ghosts—

—sees a flash of undead Michael Yew, like in his _nightmares_ , nocking a bow with his teeth because one of his arms had been chopped off.

Sees an earthen spirit claw a clay-covered hand through a legionnaire’s chest, grasping at a long-decayed heart, like how Silena Beauregard’s heart was ripped away when Charles Beckendorf died.

The staff falls out of Jason’s hand with a sickening _clack._

He chokes on a breath, and suddenly the battlefield of Manhattan flashes through his mind, like it _always_ does—his friends, dead in a pool of blood one second, and rising only seconds later.

Jason’s heartrate spikes. Breathing is _hard_ all of a sudden.

Another zombie bursts through the ground—neither a legionnaire, nor an earthen spirit. Two more. Three—three dozen, four dozen—ghosts, spirits, skeletons—

“Jason!” Nico’s voice is a sharp cry, but Jason can hardly hear it.

For every skeleton that exhumes from the ground, Jason sees an old friend rising. Friends with stab wounds, with blood spilling from their hearts, limbs flying off their bodies as Kronos’s army slashed through them. He sees them rising _again_ , and he chokes on the haunting smell of metallic, and is deafened by the sound of sword piercing through flesh.

A burst of electricity rivets across Jason’s shoulder. He snaps out of his daze, throat dry, and peers upward. Nico hangs off the Athena Parthenos, sword-wielding hand fisting the rope, while the tips of his fingers brush against Jason’s jacket.

“Snap out of it!” Nico shouts.

Pompeii is a strong epicenter for the dead. Jason catches one last glimpse of earthen spirits, undead Legionnaires, and the many others who died the last time Mount Vesuvius erupted.

“The scepter—” Jason realizes—which is long gone, lost in the sea of diverse silhouettes of the dead.

“Change in plans!” Nico retorts, and his hand is firm on Jason’s shoulder now. _“GO!”_

Without another thought, Jason plummets them into darkness.

*

Russia is cold, even in March.

They fall on the foot of a thirty-foot tall giant, who howls in pain as the Athena Parthenos smashes into his big toe. He reaches out, his own stature much more animated than the virgin goddess and pushes them down a mountain side. Again.

This time, when Nico blasts gust of wind to slow their descent, a wave of snow kicks up from the ground and coats them. Jason’s nauseous again, his hand flying to the back of his neck out of reflex.

“ _Great_ ,” Nico grumbles, his sword wedged in the ropes from when he tucked himself in for travel. He dusts snow off his body while Jason tries to keep his head from spinning. “Everyone okay?”

“Present,” Jason mutters, though his head is spinning.

“Ha! I could keep rolling!” Uncle Gleeson shouts, his hands waving high in the air despite being possessed only moments ago.

There isn’t time to recover. The giant suddenly roars, his voice coming out in pulsing sobs as he stomps in their direction. Snow seems to roll down the mountainside as the giant edges closer, dragging his bare foot through the ground. Jason hears Nico spill a Latin curse before dislodging his sword from the binding.

“We can’t catch a break today,” Nico mutters, his blade already lighting up again. 

“ _Wait_!” Jason wriggles out of the bind before Nico has the chance to swing his gladius. He tugs at the back of Nico’s praetor cloak before the son of Jupiter can lunge, invoking a yelp—and plants himself between the Roman demigod and the giant. The _Hyperborean_ giant. “He’s not bad.”

Nico makes an abhorrent sound. “ _Are you kidding_?”

“ _WAIT!_ ” Jason shouts again, louder.

Fortunately, the sound of his voice is enough to halt the giant. Sure enough, Jason gets a better look at the creature—he’s _gigantic_ , but his lips droop into a miserable arch. The giant’s skin is a pale lavender, blending into the scenery of snow, but his eyes are rimmed with vibrant red—evidence that he’s about to cry.

Closest to Jason, he sees the giant’s foot, which is already bruising black and blue. The giant isn’t even holding a weapon or a boulder, like the ourae. He’s just ready to avenge his foot with his bare hands.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks. The giant sniffles, and the sound ripples through snow like a finger to placid water.

Then the monster stares at them, his lower lip trembling like the waves of an ocean. Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he could melt the snow from salty tears alone. The giant kicks his foot out, showing a splintered big toenail and a dark mark in the middle of the slope of his foot. He glares at the Athena Parthenos, looking ready to push it further down the mountainside with shaky fists.

“He’s a Hyperborean giant,” Jason explains—and then he turns his head to a disbelieving Nico. “They’re good giants. We just startled him.”

Nico stares back at him skeptically, his sword still in hand. “I haven’t run into any _good_ giants recently, Jason.”

“Well, he’s good,” Jason insists. “You have to trust me.”

They’re not the best words, considering their morning is off to a rocky start. Jason doesn’t blame Nico—after all of the talks about the giants made to oppose the gods, the ourae—and the sudden amount of spirits that rose from the ground from Jason’s panic, trusting him is the last thing he expects Nico to do.

Nico’s gaze remains even on him—then back to Uncle Gleeson. The old satyr looks like he’s still coming down from the high of being possessed and tumbling down a mountain top—but he makes a gesture, like, _do your thing._ Finally, Nico slowly, but pointedly, puts his sword away. 

The giant curls its hands into fists and then points accusingly at the Athena Parthenos.

“I know,” Jason soothes gently, “she’s a scary lady, but she won’t hurt you again. I’m sorry.”

He hears Nico snort behind him. Jason hopes that his best friend’s mom takes his words as a compliment, but who knows what side he’s on with her these days. The giant stares back at them suspiciously—and Jason can only hope that the passive gestures show that they mean no harm.

“Can I help you with that?” Jason asks, and he waves to the crooked brown toenail, split painfully in two like the gods’ splitting headache. It reminds him of the ground crumbling beneath them back with Arachne, when he stared Thalia and Reyna in the face before they fell—and he desperately pushes those thoughts out of his mind. Because he needs to be _focused_.

The giant tilts his head, one finger tapping at his lower lip. Then he sits, causing snow to vibrate.

“We’ll have you fixed up in no time,” Jason reassures—and for the first time since Croatia, he unsheathes the sword Percy gave him.

Twenty minutes later finds Jason finishing up what has to be the world’s first giant pedicure, digging out mud and small logs from toenails before slicing through them. Jason considers trying his hand at trimming cuticles, but the Aphrodite Cabin would probably have a meltdown.

At some point, Nico offers the giant an enchanted plate, which the monster starts eating 50oz ribeye like finger foods. They take Jason’s sleeping bag, fill it with a heap of snow, and send Ivan the Hyperborean Giant off with an ice pack bigger than Frank.

As they watch Ivan retreat back into the mountain (not before giving the Virgin Athena the stink eye), Jason heaves a sigh of relief. Nico plops down beside him, and Uncle Gleeson starts whipping up hot cocoa for the both of them, happily chewing on each wrapper.

“That,” Nico declares, “has to be the weirdest thing I’ve ever done on a quest.”

Jason laughs tiredly, his arms aching after laboring about. “Sometimes all you need are the right words and some good negotiation skills. Annabeth taught me that.”

Applying them to monsters by offering mani-pedis probably isn’t what she had in mind, but he knows she’ll get a kick out of it later.

He loses his train of thought for a second. Jason can’t remember the last time he was excited to tell Annabeth something. Usually he’s dreading it.

Jason steers his glance back at Nico when he sees the corner of the son of Jupiter’s lip lift.

“Percy taught me that,” Nico confesses. “Though I wouldn’t say they were always the _right_ words. He’s always come up with creative solutions. It drove Annabeth crazy.”

“Those are good skills to have,” Jason says, and he thinks of all the times he’s had the privilege of watching Annabeth and Percy take alternate paths to the same solution. It’s terrifying and effective. “Creative solutions and negotiations.”

“Gods, what a terrible couple,” Nico mutters, though Jason knows he doesn’t mean it.

They fall into silence, Nico’s face twists into something contemplative, while Jason tries to fight off a wave of exhaustion. The weather is cold and frigid—like when Khione showed up in the Mediterranean and blasted Leo into the air. They shot much further north than Jason planned—and while he _knows_ he can withstand it, he doesn’t like the idea of exhausting himself and falling asleep. Dreaming again. _Not_ dreaming. Having the opposite of dreams.

“Percy has a cyclops brother,” Nico says suddenly. “Tyson. Ivan reminds me of him.”

Jason cocks his head back, surprised. “Really?”

“Really.”

Then Nico recounts the story of Tyson, Camp Jupiter’s honorary monster Legionnaire. Tyson had found Percy back in New York back when he was thirteen and before Nico’s time. He’d prayed to Neptune for protection after living on the streets—because despite a gentle giant, Tyson was still considered a runt to all other cyclops and fell victim to other monsters. (Jason’s heart clenches at the story.)

The Romans had rejected Tyson outright on two accounts—as a monster, and as a wretched son of Neptune. Eventually they came around for some unspoken quest—but ultimately, Tyson was better learning how to make weapons with the other cyclops down in Neptune’s Palace. To this day, Percy hasn’t forgiven anyone who disrespected his (big) little brother or made Tyson cry.

“Gods don’t reach out to their Roman children often,” Nico confesses—though his face scrunches in a way that implies the opposite for himself. “But the fact that Neptune offered Tyson a safe haven—it made Percy believe his dad wasn’t as much of a bad guy as camp made Neptune out to be.”

Jason wishes he could relate. The few times he’s met his father have only been awkward. “I had no idea.”

“He doesn’t talk about it much. Percy doesn’t think everyone deserves to know about his brother,” Nico says. “He’s pretty protective. Percy didn’t want Thalia or I to know for a while.”

Percy keeping secrets from Thalia and Nico is hard to believe—Jason knows all of the Roman demigods are as thick as thieves. He saw it as much in their last interaction.

“You played with monsters when you were little,” Nico speculates. “That’s why the giant didn’t faze you.”

Jason considers Nico’s observation. He knows it comes with the wave of emotions that happened back in Croatia…when Nico got a first-row seat to what was going on in his head. They talked about menial things when they were still on the Argo II, to keep Jason’s mind off of his nightmares—but circling back to the hard topics is inevitable.

“You said Alecto was the one to bring you to camp,” Nico continues.

“I did,” Jason says quietly. He recalls how they spent the entire day in Croatia, until he was ready to go back. He doesn’t like that Eros was the tipping point in earning Nico’s interest. Back when he _wanted_ to know Nico, to understand how his best friend’s little brother was raised after so many years of learning about him, Jason couldn’t imagine that they’d get here. Spilling both his heart and thoughts out.

_He'll leave too_ , says the miser in his head. At first, Jason thinks it sounds like Luke—but it hasn’t in a long time. _He only **needs** you for now. _

“Look, Jason,” Nico says—reminding Jason that he’s there. That he hasn’t left. Jason’s name still feels weird on the praetor’s tongue—but it’s still light. “I’m not going to _make_ you talk. But you should. That right there—” Nico gestures to the long strides of their big-footed giant. “—is the most focused you’ve been since we left Epirus. And not because you were _forcing_ yourself to do it.”

Blue eyes study him carefully. Jason’s instincts had taken over immediately in soothing Ivan the Giant that he didn’t have to think about it.

“I know I’m the last person you wanted down there with Eros,” Nico continues, “but I feel like you wouldn’t have wanted _anyone_ down there. I know what that’s like. Not wanting to let people in.”

There’s sympathy in his voice. Jason notices how Nico’s moving now—rubbing the tattoo on his arm, fiddling with his purple cloak—all out of a tense nervousness as he chooses his words. He thinks back to how Nico yelled at him in their first meeting—even if the words were said out of anger.

Ten-year-old Nico cried himself to sleep most nights without his big sister. He starved himself. He got angry at Thalia—and Jason remembers Nico’s gut-wrenching sadness when Thalia banned them from this quest. It mirrors Bianca eerily too much.

Except—Nico firmly moved on from his grief, and Bianca clung to it.

“We can’t have what happened in Pompei happen again,” Nico suddenly says, and it sounds like he’s trying to lace his voice with sympathy over his somberness. “If you’re serious about trying to prevent a war. And I need you to be serious.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees. It feels like Bianca tethering him back to reality. “I know.”

Eros said that he would have to accept all of himself to use the scepter. _All_ of himself is what caused the flock of ghosts, skeletons, and zombies to show up, aligning with his pulse as they did last summer. His panic is what caused them to show up back in Split, too. Nico’s right—Ivan the Giant feels like a cakewalk compared to the darkness and shadows—because that’s still more of him, instead of Hades.

“You said Bianca’s name earlier,” Nico points out—and there’s an audible pause in the way Uncle Gleeson is preparing their hot cocoa. “When you woke up.”

Jason swallows hard. It takes him a minute to explain why—one long, awful minute. But finally—“I had a dream about her. Not…really a dream. A memory.”

Nico falls silent. To Jason’s surprise, Nico reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. At first, Jason can’t see it—Nico cradles it carefully between his hands, nimble fingers fluttering gently about the edges. Then, Nico hands the photo to Jason, and Jason feels himself falling back in time to the day he took it.

Bianca, reveling in her peter pan collared dress and booties, smiling at the end of a storm. Freckles paint her face like constellations. Central Park. The sky was white after the end of a storm, much like her name, and she reveled in getting out of Camp Halfblood because she felt like she could never _breathe_ there.

“Is it time to talk about her?” Nico asks softly.

The picture is in perfect condition. Jason hadn’t been around when he asked Reyna to give it to Nico—he’d just looked at the many photos they’d taken together and picked out one that Bianca was fond of. _Nice lighting is the key to a good photo_ , she’d say. Natural lighting was the best lighting. Candid smiles were better than forced smiles.

As much as her death hurt, no one made Jason feel more like his age than Bianca did. _Normal_ and _ordinary._

“She was fifteen here,” Jason says. “Almost sixteen. She wanted to capture every memory. Bianca used to say that you’d never know if the last time you saw someone would be the _last time._ ”

Nico shifts uncomfortably in his mound of snow. Jason can only assume his thoughts are on the Lotus Casino.

“I have all of the photos we took.” Jason keeps himself from tracing her silhouette in the photo and instead hands it back to Nico. Despite not being there when Reyna gifted it to Nico, Jason watches the son of Jupiter now, as Nico stares down at the picture of his late sister and solemnly takes her essence in. “She didn’t want to take any of them with her when she left with the Huntresses. She was starting a new life.”

The last part comes out too bitter. Nico’s gaze darts back to him curiously, eyebrows furrowed together, and this time, Jason can’t keep his gaze.

“You look a lot like her,” Jason says, and he gestures to her bright blue eyes and her olive-tone skin.

Nico holds a wider frame, but he recalls looking at the son of Jupiter’s face the first time and thinking just how familiar it was. He’d felt it when they descended from the Argo II to Croatia, with the winds caressing them, and the way Nico tucked an arm under him. He _heard_ it, when Nico tried to snap him out of his thoughts.

Right now, Nico doesn’t make a sound. He runs his finger across the photograph, padding the sweet picture of his sister. His expression is somber—as tight as it was in Split, as he tried to reassure Jason that it was okay to _hate_ Bianca di Angelo. It reminds Jason of his last few days with the daughter of Zeus, where a million thoughts ran through her mind and Jason was no longer privy to them. Bianca had severed the tie between them long before she swore her life away.

“I think about her a lot,” Jason confesses, but even _that_ is hard to admit. “Mostly memories. She was there with me in Tartarus.”

Immediately, Nico’s head snaps back up. His stature is tense, and his eyebrows furrow together.

“I don’t know if it was the real her,” Jason says quickly. “I was starving and…dehydrated. I was hallucinating a lot—” He’s _still_ hallucinating a lot. “—and I could feel my life fading away. Bianca’s the one who told me to keep finding the doors. I think she was a hallucination, too.”

“Her spirit kept you alive,” Nico murmurs, his voice quiet as he stares at the photo.

“In a way,” Jason replies, and he’s reluctant. _Spirit_ is a strong word to use, as real as the ghosts that unearthed themselves this morning. “It was more like a remnant. But…I’ve been having dreams about her. And I keep seeing her, when I look at you. Like…like I’m seeing—”

“Like you’re seeing her ghost,” Nico finishes for him, and he looks back at Jason as though he’s come to a realization.

“It’s not her ghost,” Jason insists again—that word is loaded too. He touches his forehead, and he can practically hear Luke and Bianca battling in his mind—Luke telling him to die. Bianca telling him there’s more to live for, even though she laughed at the thought in her past life. In her only life. “But it’s—it’s complicated.”

Jason thinks back to their outings, sneaking away from Camp Halfblood just to go to the mall or new coffee shops. Everything that didn’t scream Camp Halfblood—until Bianca made a choice that would take her as far away from camp as possible and leave Jason feeling even emptier since Luke left.

Nico stares at him carefully. It’s always been hard to gauge his reaction, unlike his late sister. His gaze is calmer, more sympathetic. But it’s also more calculating and takes in all of Jason like it had when he first picked up Diocletian’s scepter.

“How complicated?” Nico asks.

Jason shifts uncomfortably. “We…didn’t end things on the best note, but she was still my best friend.”

“How did things end?”

“Poorly,” Jason says, and the smile on his face aches. “She never wanted to come back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault she left,” Jason says, and he notices Nico’s lip furling at the words. Nico’s soaking in the information much differently than Thalia or Percy. Jason thinks before Tartarus, he was able to keep himself in check and say the words the way he wanted them to be said.

Thalia wanted to hear all the things that little Nico raved on about his big sister and found comfort that while she was taking care of Nico, Jason inadvertently was taking care of Bianca. Except—one of the di Angelos is alive, and the other one is just a ghost that haunts the shells of Jason’s ears. After Tartarus and after Eros, it feels like Kronos again. Trying to keep himself in check, so the powers don’t pour out of him.

“It’s not your fault she left either,” Nico suddenly says, and the intrusion of his voice almost makes Jason jump.

“It’s my fault she didn’t stay,” Jason says. He turns to catch a glance of Nico, who’s busy fiddling with his shoelaces. Jason stands to his feet and dusts snow off of his pants. Under the morning sun, the flakes blend with his flesh. “I don’t want to burden you with this, Nico. We should focus on the quest.”

On cue, Uncle Gleeson reappears with two piping cans of hot cocoa. Jason’s hands are so cold that the drink feels lukewarm in his hands.

“The cans are for dessert,” Uncle Gleeson says, and he eyes them eagerly.

Nico relishes in the cocoa, evidently not one for the cold weather based on all the shivering. “Not being focused on this quest is what cost us the scepter.”

Jason grimaces. The sweetness of the hot cocoa is suddenly bitter in his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. There’s no other way to kick off a quest than for something bad to happen,” Nico mutters.

Jason can’t help but snort. Wasn’t that the truth. The moment the sound leaves him, blue eyes flutter back and take him in.

“Bianca’s not an easy subject to talk about,” Nico says quietly. “I haven’t made it easy to talk about her.”

“It’s not your—”

“I know.” Nico’s expression is unreadable. Jason knows less about what’s going on in Nico’s head than he did Bianca’s. He grows quiet once more, tucking one of his hands beneath his armpit. “It wasn’t Thalia’s fault, either. She and I…talk about it now and then. It’s better for the both of us.” 

“I know how much Thalia loves you,” Jason says. Nico wouldn’t have been so protective of his relationship with Thalia if they weren’t so close. Even now, Jason feels himself protective of Bianca from his own frustrations. They were close once, like Thalia and Nico are. “I can see it in the way she looks at you.”

Nico raises his gaze back to meet Jason’s. He studies Jason carefully, and Jason wonders if Nico catches all of the differences between Thalia and him. She’s bolder. More confident, and more likely to let people in. More in control.

Instead, Nico asks, “Do you know what Reyna’s power is?”

“Um. No?”

The corner of Nico’s lips lift, and there’s a subtle mirth there that Jason had grown used to seeing in the said daughter of Bellona—an inside joke that Jason knows nothing about. “She can lend her strength and courage to others by bearing something of theirs. Their burden.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow together.

“When I got to camp,” Nico says, “Thalia stayed with me for weeks and supported me. And then Percy and Reyna. _Thalia_ taught me to share my grief and move on my life. Reyna taught me to use it as a power. The credit for slaying Krios went to me, but—” Nico pauses for a moment, evidently reliving the situation. “—we never would have gotten there without leaning on each other.”

It's the opposite of Jason standing in the middle of Manhattan with the fallen bodies of his old friends. _Using_ them. The corner of Jason’s lip twitches, and he bows his head.

He can’t help the envy bubbling in his stomach—how easily Nico is able to lift a sword and assume praetorship—then just as easily give it away. No matter how much Jason dreaded the idea of the second war, he’s always felt bound to keep others around him safe. It’s his penance.

The warmth of Nico’s hand touches his wrist, strengthened by the heat of the hot chocolate.

“You said Reyna and Thalia were better because they fell down in Tartarus together,” Nico says quietly. “Even if we don’t have the scepter anymore, let me be what Thalia was for me, when I first came to camp.”

Nico’s demeanor twists, and he curls his fingers, unwilling to let Jason pull away.

“Let me be what Bianca couldn’t,” Nico continues, and the words are tight on his mouth, “for you.”

At those words, something tugs at Jason’s chest. His eyebrows knit together once again, lips furling. Jason swallows hard, and he stares at the remains of his lukewarm hot cocoa.

“You done with your hot chocolate?” Nico asks, evidently taking the look on Jason’s face to change the subject. He shivers, brushing the last bit of snow out of his hair with a grimace. “We should get back en route.”

“I—yeah.” Jason downs the cold cocoa, and Uncle Gleeson happily discards of their cans. He stares at the white sky, reminded of the day after the storm with Bianca—but there’s a different feeling in his chest now, not quite as bitter. He can’t place the word, but he feels light again like after Split. “There aren’t a lot of shadows right now. Could you make a storm, like before?”

Nico makes a face and stares at the sky.

“Um. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Nico reassures, though his tone is reluctant. “Coach—you and Jason get strapped in.”

A few moments later, Jason finds himself strapped to the Athena Parthenos’s leg, who looks just as thrilled as Nico is to leave the winter tundra. The winds pick up with sickening ease, cold and blistering against Jason’s skin. He feels the flakes cast off the sheets of snow on the ground and prickle against his cheeks, while Nico stares up at the sky.

“What did Percy teach you?” Jason finds himself asking.

Nico’s head snaps back to him. “What?”

Jason looks back at him, evidently breaking the son of Jupiter’s concentration. “Percy. You said Thalia taught you how to grieve, and Reyna taught you how to lend strength. What did Percy teach you?”

Nico stares back at him, while the storm clouds brew above. They hold a conversation as casually as talking over coffee. Nico talked about how Jason was in his element taking care of a giant, but Jason doesn’t think anything comes more naturally than Nico talking about how proud he is about the people who took care of him.

“He taught me not to give up on people,” Nico says. “Loyalty.”

His gaze is harder this time, as blue eyes narrow. The words are so direct that Jason feels the nagging feeling in his chest again.

The sky finally darkens enough that pristine snow looks blue at Jason’s feet. He sighs in the familiar relief of the shadows against the howling of the winds. Then—snow falls in blistering waves, pelting Jason square in the face worse than any New York blizzard.

He hears a yelp—and watches as Nico crawls out of a pile of snow accumulating at his ankles. Jason can hardly see Nico under the haze of cold—but then he sees more white in Nico’s hair than black, and he sees the wrinkle of Nico’s brow much more prominently, as Nico sloshes towards him.

“I h-hate the c-cold,” Nico says, teeth clattering, and he grabs at Jason’s hand. “P-Please get us out of here.”

The way he shivers reminds Jason of finicky pigeons in Central Park.

As they descend into darkness, Jason forces himself to bite back a laugh.

Bianca would’ve acted _much_ differently.

*

Gaea torturing them on the trip doesn’t stay in Pompeii. In between their travels, Nico reluctantly admits to having dreams about New Rome falling—putting any talk of Bianca di Angelo to a halt for the quest at hand. If they can get back en route—going _east_ instead of north, then they can get to Camp Halfblood before she rises. They have to.

There’s a way Nico’s voice is brisk and tight—different from the way he soothes Jason. When Jason asks about it, Nico only grimaces and just reiterates Jason’s first point. They need to prevent the war as best they can. Nico starts voicing a thought—Jason thinks _Piper_ is on Nico’s tongue, but he stops to a dead halt.

“What about Piper?” Jason asks one evening, while they’re huddled close to flames and breathing out white huffs. Jason offered his jacket, but Nico looked at him like he’d grown a second head before bundling himself in his purple cloak.

“I—” Nico makes a face. “—don’t want to talk about it.”

There’s a mix of recluse and shame in his expression, scrunched between his brow. Jason stares onward for a moment, as Nico looks into the flames for comfort and warmth. Since the quest started, Nico has called Thalia and Reyna for guidance. But the closer they get to Gaea’s awakening, the harder it is to keep contact.

“I’m here,” Jason tells him. “if you do want to talk about it.”

Nico cocks his head back up reluctantly.

“I know I’m not Thalia, but—”

“Thanks, Jason,” Nico says, and out sounds like a punctuation at the end of a sentence. His eyebrows furrow together, expression hard—but there’s a glimmer of gratefulness in his eyes. Then, clearly uncomfortable, he changes the subject. “We should figure out the rest of my dream. About the Hunter Who Never Rests.”

Jason considers his words, and hesitation bubbles in his own stomach. “We could send a message to the Huntresses. They might know something about it.”

“The Huntresses,” Nico repeats, his knees pressed to his chest. Despite the shivering posture, he looks back at Jason. “You told me Bianca left with them.”

Jason swallows uncomfortably. “She did.”

“She never came back.”

“She did not,” Jason confirms. He hesitates. “Their lieutenant…she’s not the biggest fan of me.”

“Why not?”

“I,” Jason says, “don’t want to talk about it.”

He lifts his gaze, and from the corner of his eye, he notices Nico studying him. Fortunately, the son of Jupiter relinquishes his gaze, and instead stares at the flames again, his palms against the flames.

“Maybe the Amazons can help too,” Nico says. “I’ll see if we can get a message to Reyna’s sister. We’ll need all of the reinforcements that we can get.”

Jason pauses. “Reyna has a sister?”

Nico snorts, the corner of his lip lifting upward. The mood feels light, lifting long enough for Jason to forget that they’re strategizing. When he finally explains why, Jason can’t help but smile, too. “She doesn’t like to talk about her much.”

Between Tyson, Percy’s cyclops brother, and Jason’s own estrangement for Thalia, Jason wonders _what_ the Roman demigods like to talk about.

“I’ll get in contact with Reyna when there’s daylight,” Nico says. “Enough to make a rainbow.”

Jason hesitates on saying the same thing about Zoe Nightshade. Nico stares at him regardless.

“The Amazons are strong,” Nico says. “We may not need the Huntresses.”

“No. I’ll reach out.” Jason rubs at his wrist and stares at his own hands. “Whatever it takes to defeat Gaea.”

The words leave an awful taste in his mouth, sounding all too similar to what he said on the battlefield with Kronos. Nausea twists at the pit of his stomach. And it shows on Jason’s face long before the sensation swells him. He’s tethered back down, when Nico reaches out to his shaky hands.

“Get some rest,” Nico tells him. “We’re going to need it to recover time.”

Jason hesitates, but he’s met with the same hard stare from Moscow. “You’ll…wake me up, if I start…?” Having nightmares. Dreaming about Bianca again.

“Yeah,” Nico reassures. “Just like last time.”

So, while Nico huddles close to the fire, Jason stretches out near the embers and presses his head to his jacket. Getting himself to fall asleep is easier these days—he thinks Nico will scold him into slumber otherwise.

But it still takes a while. Jason breathes in the scent of charred wood and flames and hears the rhythm of Uncle Gleeson’s heartbeat alongside Nico’s. He _knows_ they’re with him, and that they’re real. And—he’ll do anything to protect the ones that he cares about.

He sees Clovis—a fellow roommate from Cabin Eleven—floating around from his dreams and makes a mental note to tell Will that he was right.

After a few rigid shakes, Clovis stirs. “Mm…Jason. Long time no see. Sleeping… _yawn_ …like the dead, or _with_ the dead?”

Jason doesn’t know how someone can still be _tired_ in a dream, but he smiles at the familiar sight of his cabinmate. Swallows uncomfortably, before he makes his next request. “I need to send a message to the Huntresses.”

*

Something brings them to the town of Pripyat. The hairs on Jason’s forearms stands erect as they appear at the outskirts of the city. A chill runs up the back of his neck, colder than the harsh winter storms that Nico’s conjured to aid their travels. Nico looks tired—both from the cold weather _and_ from fighting.

“Let’s wait for sunset,” Jason tells them, and Nico plants himself firmly on the ground, shuffling through the backpack Reyna gave him for more matches.

“Let’s restock supplies in town,” Nico says. “And then we can—”

“I’ll go,” Jason interjects, and he touches Nico on the arm to keep the other demigod from protesting. “Get some rest.”

His gaze is on the silhouette of the town—but when he looks back at Nico, he notices the son of Jupiter tensing. Jason retracts his hand. He’d gotten to Nico reaching out to tether him to reality, but Nico hadn’t quite recovered from when Jason grabbed him the first time and called him Bianca. And—unfortunately, that wasn’t the first time.

“You look tired,” Jason says more gently this time. “Take a rest.”

He supposes it’s that militant upbringing. Nico had grown more and more on edge as they got closer to Gaea’s uprising—and constantly insisting on keeping Jason out of danger, like Pompeii. New Rome’s current praetor was stubbornly trying to keep himself awake.

Finally, Nico pushes his backpack against the ground and lays his head down.

“An hour,” he warns. “Not a minute more, Jason.”

He conks out easily and curls into a ball, shivering despite the sudden fire. Jason bites back a smile—and before he knows it, he’s shirking off his jacket and laying it over the other demigod.

“Need a bodyguard?” Uncle Gleeson asks, and he’s readying his baseball bat.

“Just guard this body, Uncle Gleeson,” Jason asks. The old satyr looks reluctant—but then he looks down to Nico’s snoring form and folds.

Jason walks through the town of Pripyat and feels cold. The town is abandoned and frigid—harsher than winter. He swallows the bile in his throat—the familiar wave from last summer. Spirits roam around and go about their day, as though the town never died—as though the aura of death was never there. They turn to look at him, eyes piercing through his heart as though trying to make him feel closer to death himself—but Jason keeps wandering.

They weren’t supposed to end up in Pripyat.

Then again, they weren’t supposed to end up in Russia, either.

_Stay focused_ , says a voice in Jason’s head. It’s not Bianca, or Luke talking to him.

Across a courtyard, Jason catches sight of a ghost that makes his skin crawl.

This ghost is covered in chemical burns, his flesh raw from an accident that Jason is too young to know. But he _feels_ what killed this city—the explosion that wiped out everyone and took this ghost’s face with it. What’s left of his skin are large red craters where his cheeks should be. A hollowed hole sits where his nose once was, and neither eye seems to focus on Jason. Even his clothes—a jumpsuit meant to protect him from the nuclear accident—seems to be melted to his skin.

The ghost points at him with two fingers that fused together through death. Despite the permanent mar of his skin, the ghost salutes him like an old friend.

Jason shudders, watching the melted fabric move so eerily with his skin. “You want me to follow.”

The ghost nods.

Despite every instinct telling him he shouldn’t, Jason proceeds. Walking through the city already sends the sun further across the sky. The further they get, the colder Jason feels—and it isn’t because of the breeze or the light snow that seems to follow Nico’s wake.

It feels too much like the Underworld.

The dead feel crueler. More miserable. With each path Jason takes, following his chemically-burned colleague (friend definitely doesn’t feel like the right word), Jason feels his stomach flop. His hand flies to the back of his neck out of instinct—something he’s done since the first visit to his father’s domain.

The sky is already purple and orange when they make it to their destination. The ghost gestures to a statue—a monument—in front of a large steel building. The closer Jason gets, the more his soul feels like it wants to leap out of his body—and join the many other ghosts still trying to climb out of the building.

“You got out,” Jason murmurs to the ghost—who shakes his head vehemently. Jason considers the alternative. “You were summoned.”

The ghost nods—and without prompt, fazes back through the wall.

Great. Out in the middle of nowhere in front of a giant metal building filled with screaming souls, begging to be let out before they can die.

_Too late_ , Jason thinks grimly.

He turns his head to the monument—two hands cradling a building at the palms. Supporting it. It shows a sculpture of the building before the accident—before the government encased the powerplant before another accident could happen. A sarcophagus, for the mortals that couldn’t be buried.

There’s a plaque on every side of the monument, with the names of everyone who fell during the accident. Everyone they could find. Jason thumbs his own necklace, his fingers padding the last camp bead against his collar bone. The one that was too small to hold all the names of everyone who died against Kronos.

“A tragedy, isn’t it?”

The voice is soft and morose. Even after almost a year, Jason can’t misplace it. He stares at the many names on the plaque, wondering which one belonged to the ghost that guided him here. The one that was summoned.

Jason doesn’t have to turn around. His stomach twists in knots, as the King of the Dead makes his way beside him. His father. “Hi, Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This probably isn't returning to a regular update schedule, but I want you to know this story is still on my mind. I've had a lot of questions recently about different aspects of this story, and I just wanted to say how glad I am that you guys are so interested in it! Thank you so much for being patient as I get this chapter out, and hopefully you'll keep on reading! 
> 
> Stay safe!


	8. healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason hesitates. “Why are you the only one that broke the oath?”

Growing up, _Hades_ was rarely the first parent people guessed for Jason’s parentage. Kids at camp normally carried a full conversation with him before faltering at the name of his father. Most people just don’t _think_ of him as a son of Hades—whatever that means.

Some demigods just favor their mother—Jason knows he apparently does. Most days, Jason is paler than snow and his blond hair seems to melt into the tone of his skin. The only thing that hints at his parentage is his eyes.

When he met Thalia, there was no doubt in her parentage. Her hair is as black as the shadows, like their father’s, and her eyes are inked with the same hue. She uses her powers without batting so much of an eye and holds her head high as a leader to the Romans. Jason knows Hades is proud of her.

Him, on the other hand—he thinks the silence after his birthday said it all. He was met with mournful reserve from Annabeth, from Chiron—from all of Camp Halfblood, with the gaps filled only by Zeus’s insufferable grumbling that Bianca should’ve been the child of prophecy. He was met with a guilty muteness when Hades and he slipped out of Olympus and retreated to the obsidian walls of his father’s palace, where his stomach twisted in knots at the thought of all of the campers that were now in Elysium.

And the ones— _one_ —that wasn’t.

“Hello, dear Jason,” Hades says, though Jason’s not sure if _dear_ is a word that’s ever been used to describe him. He’s dressed in the same outfit as that ghost—though more pristine. A black jumpsuit, rippling with the tortured souls of the lost, who swam so much in the fabric that Jason vaguely wonders if Hades swung by just to expand his wardrobe.

They stare at each other in silence. It’s a reminder of Jason’s sixteenth birthday, when he stood at the foot of his father’s throne and Hades had few words to say before offering an inedible cupcake. There’s a way Hades tilts his head now, taking Jason in the same way he did almost a year ago. Sad and solemn. Staring at the very soul that would one day grace his throne.

Jason’s hand hasn’t left the memorial bead around his neck—the heaviest one. He kneels. “Hello, sir.”

“You needn’t kneel, my dear boy.”

“Then I kneel for the fallen, sir.”

Hades doesn’t make a sound. He walks across the length of the monument, staring at the hands from many angles—at the many lives that were taken in this accident. “That’s quite enough, my boy. To your feet.”

Jason hesitates, and then slowly stands to his feet—not quite the height of his father, but close. After Tartarus, Jason’s face is narrower. Gaunter, like the King of the Dead—but far more rugged from the endless nights of fitful sleep.

“If I may be so bold to ask,” he starts slowly. “Why are you here, sir? How are you here?”

Hades tries to find his eyes, while Jason tries not to focus on his father’s appearance. The god’s milky skin flickers into the ashy craters of one of the workers of the power plant. His shadowy hair is tied beneath a hard hat, dark eyes shielded by a mask. It’s more gruesome than the ghost that guided Jason here. More raw.

“Good questions to ask, my boy. With the way things are now, I find myself often nursing a headache.” Hades tilts his hat, touching his head in a way that Jason is all too familiar with. “This place is a ghost town. The result of an accident that took the lives of many—and yet none join my kingdom because there was no one left to perform the burials. No coinage to be given to Charon. I can exist here because they beg for me to bring them peace.”

Jason squares his jaw, thinking about the many spirits he passed who went about a routine as if nothing happened. The ones who looked angrier, as they realized they couldn’t leave their own personal hell. There’s a tightness in his stomach as he watches on—as the names seem to stretch further than his line of sight. Jason can hear hundreds of souls, far louder and far more miserable than the ones rippling in Hades’s robes. Even _those_ souls made it to the Underworld eventually, worn on Hades like a heart on his sleeve.

“Is that why you’re here now?” he asks, his voice low and mournful.

“That’s not the intention of my visit, no,” Hades says. “And I believe you’re aware of the rules of my domain.”

Very aware. Disappointment still lingers in Jason’s chest from when Hades reminded him of the rules last summer. When Jason reminded Luke, too. Jason shoves that thought aside. That _frustration_ aside.

“You’re a hard person to track down, my boy,” Hades continues, oblivious to the wilting of Jason’s lips. “I’ve grown so used to watching you at camp that I hadn’t the first idea where to look for you.”

Jason’s not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult. His dad has apparently been watching him at Camp Halfblood—and was oblivious to the fact that he’d fallen down in Tartarus not too long ago. This time, the frown is more apparent across his lips. Jason’s jaw tightens once more, and he averts his gaze from his father.

“But,” Hades continues. His voice catches for a moment, and if Jason lifts his gaze, he notices Hades is soaking in his every reaction. “Once a good portion of my people began to sprout in Pompeii, I had an inkling of where to look. North. Neither further nor closer to camp.”

Shame burns in Jason’s chest, and he rubs the exhaustion out of his eyes. “I compromised the quest and lost the scepter.”

He doesn’t think a simple _I’m sorry_ will hold the weight of his frustration. Hades makes another noise—and Jason tries to place it. Anger? Disappointment?

“That scepter is simply an amplifier for those who aren’t my children,” the god of the dead says. “Something that can be wielded by a child of the Underworld. But for any of _my_ children—it’s far more powerful than a silly little lightning rod. I’m surprised you got _any_ use out of it.”

Jason grimaces. He didn’t hold it long enough to find out.

“And given the decision you made last summer,” Hades goes on, “that staff would only stifle you. It pales in comparison to the feats you’ve already performed.”

_Feats_ , he says. Jason stares down at his knuckles and stifles a protest. He forces himself from touching the back of his neck and tries not to think about the series of decisions and misfortunes that got them here.

He can still remember standing across his father for the first time, sword brandished. Jason was eleven and overawed, his heart ready to leap out of his chest. For all the years he combatted the prophecy and tried to focus on the _hero_ bit of being a demigod, seeking Hades’s praise suddenly meant everything to him.

Then of course, Hades grumbled about the countless battles yet to come, and how much he hated wars and the effect on his realm. _Why_ did a war need to happen, he ranted, and eleven-year-old Jason felt the same. _Why_ did there need to be a war? _Why_ did he need to be the chosen one?

Because it’s what the Fates decided, and not even the Gods can defy fate. His father’s expression was somber—always somber.

Even on the eve of Jason’s sixteenth birthday, when Jason asked for a parent’s blessing to bathe in the River Styx.

“ _This is what you want_?” Hades asked.

_“This is what will change the tide of the war_ ,” Jason answered.

For all of the complaining that his father had done about wars, Jason thinks Hades looked mournful that day. Pitying. Or maybe those were the things that Jason hoped his father would do or say—because that was how he felt. Much like the scepter, Jason was doing everything in his power to turn the tide of a war.

He lost Luke. Bianca. His mother was a hollow shell in the Fields of Asphodel that stared through Jason like _he_ was the ghost. His father’s blessing was the only palpable thing he could _ask_ for, and after Luke’s relentless slaughter of Bianca, Jason needed to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. He _needed_ to go through these lengths to save lives.

(More people still died than were saved.)

Going through Eros was just another painful length.

As though Hades is reading his mind, Jason catches his father staring at the plaque now.

“You’ve always been an honorable demigod, Jason,” Hades suddenly says—and the gentleness of his tone strikes a chord with Jason. “Choosing to put your life on the line for the greater good. Protecting Olympus. Sacrificing everything for peace. My most selfless child.”

Jason’s chest tightens at the words. For all the heroic words his father chose, they don’t make him feel better. “Thank you, sir.”

“Selfless to a fault,” Hades grumbles, and it holds the same tone as when he berates his siblings up above for bloodshed. “Which is why I wish to aid you a second time on this quest.”

“A second time?” Jason cocks his head back to his dad, but Hades breezes over the question.

“The hunter that you seek,” Hades says, “is a giant. He was made to oppose Artemis and Apollo. Orion.”

Jason stares in surprise. No cryptid messages, no riddles. Such a direct answer that Jason struggles to find the words hidden between the spaces of Hades’s explanation.

“A question, dear boy?” his father asks.

“No—I—uh.” Jason swallows and stares back at his father. “Please go on.”

Hades arches a bemused eyebrow and carries on with what he knows about the Hunter Who Never Rests. Bane to the twin archers. Didn’t participate in the First Giant War. Lost his eyes hitting on the wrong princess. Hephaestus eventually took pity on the giant and gave him new, mechanical eyes (which explains the glowing red eyes in Nico’s dreams) and joined Artemis’s hunt. Jason could almost relate to a giant that wanted to forsake his fate and befriend the very god and goddess he was made to kill.

Except for the part where Apollo felt threatened by Orion’s influence on his sister and killed the hunter giant instead. Jason knows his line of thinking is strange—good monsters, bad monsters. Good giants, like Ivan and Tyson, bad giants like Alcyoneous and Porphyrion. Good, like Alecto. Bad, like Kronos.

But—sympathizing with a giant who ultimately chose to side with Gaea and cause the apocalypse because of a broken heart hits a little too close to home and Jason has a bad taste in his mouth.

“I’ll get the message to my friend, Dad,” Jason says. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t ever expect a _you’re welcome_ to follow from his father. Hades has taken to staring at him with uncomfortable fascination—the so-called selfless son who not-so-secretly wanted to be Jason Grace more than he wanted to be Son of Hades.

“I have no doubt that you will succeed in this quest, dear Jason,” his father suddenly says, “at your fullest strength.”

At _those_ words, Jason’s whole chest just aches. His fullest strength—drawing from the enhanced powers from the Curse of Achilles (a much more truthful name, than a parent’s _blessing_ ) that enhanced his hold over the dead, enhanced his emotions, and turned the tide of the war in the most horrifying way possible.

His pulse is cold at his veins, and he wants nothing more than to puke. The rage bubbles in his stomach, and his hands shake once more—but for the first time, it’s out of rage than it is out of fear.

“I don’t want to do that again,” Jason blurts out—because he has to, before his father can go on another nonsensical tangent. He knows better than to speak out of turn—otherwise Zeus would have vaporized him last summer. But the anger burns in Jason’s throat—because as much as he _hates_ Bianca for leaving and _loves_ Luke, he’s also _furious_ because of the war. Furious at himself, for the result of the war.

Hades stares at him—and in the reflection of his cool black eyes, Jason can see his own resentment.

“What I did to my friends in the last war, that—” Jason chokes on his words. He _sees_ his friends in the corners of his eyes—as corpses, ghosts, and spirits of his own guilt. “—that was the worst I’ve ever felt, Dad. I was _soaked_ in their blood. I killed people I grew up with. I killed _L_ —”

Luke’s name is hot on his tongue, but Jason can’t quite get it out. He knows the last time he brought it up to his father, Hades had reassured him Luke would be punished.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Dad,” Jason says, and he _drowns_ in shame now. “I don’t think I can. I—I know I can’t.”

Jason can still _smell_ Luke’s blood in his nostrils. He can still see red crusted beneath his fingernails, still remember how he rubbed his arms raw with soap until the red of his fallen comrades was replaced with the red of his own flesh, and his hands tremble.

They stop as Hades grabs them. “You mistake my words.”

Jason actually balks at the words. It’s when Hades reaches up to thumb the tear at the corner of his eye that Jason realizes he’s crying.

“Your truest strength lies in that gentle spirit of yours, my boy. So easily making friends with monsters as you would demigods. Even when you were at a crossroads with the Hermes boy—”

“His name was Luke,” Jason murmurs miserably, and he keeps his gaze at Hades’s hands. He’s reminded of his childhood, being dragged around the different facets of camp so he could assimilate after Alecto.

“— _you_ made the decision to stay,” Hades finishes. “You wanted family more than vengeance.”

“I’ve made a lot of horrible decisions.”

“You’ve made selfless decisions,” Hades corrects. He stares mutely at Jason. Then he gestures to the giant metal arch that incarcerates the Chernobyl power plant. “Death is tragic more often than not. Sometimes it is violent, like war. Sometimes it is a result of an accident. One decision—regardless of intention—may change the course of history as we know it. There is finality for the dead. For the living, it presents another crossroads.”

Jason furrows his brow.

“This accident happened only a year before your sister was born,” Hades continues. “As thousands died, the living vowed to never have an accident as tragic as this again. They’ve covered this building to prevent further harm and come every decade—not to right a wrong, but to remember and grow stronger. This monument is a reminder of their fallen, and they’ve used it as their strength to move forward to better the survivors.”

Jason looks back at his father and realizes the hidden meaning in Hades’s words. Moving forward, despite all the anguish that erupted from the war.

“I understand that my realm has not always been easy for you. Your mother. The di Angelo girl. That boy. You aren’t weak, my dear boy, for never raising a sword again,” Hades says, and a lump swells in Jason’s throat. “You are strong, for choosing your path. And for that, I’m proud of you.”

Jason’s eyes water again. He swallows hard, blinking through his tears. For some reason, Hades’s grip is comforting on his own. Jason can’t remember the last time he’s felt this stillness in someone holding his hand before. Maybe Alecto, after his mother’s death.

“Should you _not_ make it,” Hades continues, “I will have a room prepared for you at the palace. You’ll no longer have to fight. Only rest. Perhaps pick up a hobby. Cooking, maybe—I’ve grown tired of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.”

Jason’s lip twitches. “Is that a joke?”

“They call it a _funny bone_ for a reason.” Hades says. “Now—my time grows short. I must—”

“I want to ask you one more thing, Dad.”

To his surprise, Hades humors his request. It’s not often that Jason asks for more time with his father.

The corner of Hades’s mouth lifts in the same manner, akin to the direction of Jason’s own. “Well then, don’t dawdle. Go on.”

Jason hesitates. “Why are you the only one that broke the oath?”

Hades’s eyebrows raise under his hard hat. At first, Jason is afraid that he’s misspoken—that one string of words that steer the course of his father’s respect of him. Of the things that Zeus ranted about on Jason’s birthday, Hades being the _only_ god to break the sacred oath of the three kings was at the front of his slander. Poseidon never bore a Grecian child. Bianca came before World War II. Even Hazel, who was asleep for a century came before the three kings made their vow.

And Jason could have easily been a Roman demigod, growing up alongside his big sister— _actual_ family who wasn’t deterred by his feats. Someone who loved him for _all_ of him—and with the rest of the other Roman Big Three children.

“Your mother held great desires for fame and wealth. Far greater than any other soulless mortal that has crossed the entrance to my realm,” Hades says—and Jason assumes he’s talking about DOA Records. “She was as talented as she was vicious, my dear boy. You must be ruthless in Hollywood. She attracted me in my Roman form. But not long after your sister was born, the wealth and fame hollowed her out into a miserable carcass.”

The ring that Jason keeps in his pocket suddenly feels heavier. He recalls his conversation with his big sister. How Beryl was selfish, proud, and hardheaded. How having Jason was like trying to make amends for her past life.

“As you know, your mother hit rock bottom,” Hades continues. He pauses. “But she made a decision. She wanted to change. Mortals mull over all of their regrets in the face of death—and I loved her more as my current self than I did as him—” Hades slows again, _Pluto_ in the air, yet not quite spoken. “—I never loved your mother more than when she was a ghost of her old self—before the fame went to her head.”

He heaves a sigh, bearing a weight that Jason often finds on his own shoulders. Hades stares at him contemplatively, looking more focused than the many other gods they’ve encountered in the past.

“We all swore that oath to prevent more bloodshed. More wars. That was our crossroads, as kings,” Hades says, and he folds his arms over another. He’s a poised god, face void of emotion like a corpse in rigor mortis—but to Jason, his eyes seem to hold all of the sorrow of every soul that has ever mourned. “When she attracted me as I am now, I wasn’t focused on the Oracle’s words. I’d hoped your presence would heal her to her former self, unlike the riches. That’s why she chose your name. The healer.”

There’s a protectiveness that hardens Jason’s chest. His eyebrows furrow together, and he keeps himself from balling his hands into fists. “Are you…saying you regret loving her as Pluto? Regret Thalia?”

The mention of Thalia’s name is the first between them. Jason sees his father’s eyes shift with acknowledgement, now that Jason knows he can place his name alongside someone else’s in his life. Now that the knows he isn’t alone—or had to grow up alone.

“My conscious is different from my brothers’,” Hades says instead—and he takes each one of Jason’s tough questions in stride. They’re questions that Jason has been wanting to ask for years—all of the _whys_ that came with Alecto bringing him to Camp Halfblood when he was a baby—but Jason doesn’t think he’s had the voice to ask until very recently. “Your sister…she’s everything that I loved about your mother. Perhaps that’s why they never got along. They’re too much alike. And you, my dear boy—I’d say you’re very different from your mother.”

Jason’s stomach twists uncomfortably. Different, from his mother, and different from his father.

“But,” Hades says, and there’s a comfort in there that Jason doesn’t expect to find. “She loved _all_ of me. The fame, the riches, and the ghosts. She welcomed them after your sister was born. Take note, Jason. I fall in love so infrequently, other than my beloved wife. Six seeds separate us, but never doubt that I give my whole heart, to receive all of my lovers’ in return.”

At the mention of _love_ and _hearts_ , Jason twitches uncomfortably. _That’s_ not a conversation he’s ready to have with his dad—especially with their harrowing disagreement with where Luke ended up. Luckily, the King of the Underworld doesn’t continue on the path of giving his son awkward _love advice._

“Had your mother continued down her path in wanting fame and glory,” Hades says instead, when Jason’s face tells all of his discomfort, “I have no doubt that she would have turned into a mania or rotted in the Fields of Punishment with the Hermes boy. The best I could do is offer her Asphodel. But, my dear Jason—know that her love for you greatly outweighed her need for riches.”

A bitter taste rests at the back of Jason’s mouth and his eyebrows furrow together. Her love outweighed her desire for fame and power, sure, but even that loss out to the other thing. The cause of her death, which left two-year-old Jason in the backseat of his mother’s totaled car wondering why she wouldn’t wake up.

As though Hades read his thoughts, his father suddenly places a hand on his shoulders.

“Your mom chose the path easiest to her when she was at a crossroads,” Hades says. “Easiest is not always _right._ Continue down this path you’ve chosen, my dear boy. I hope at the end of it you find peace.”

Jason peers back up to his father. In the abyss of Hades’s eyes, there’s a twinkle that he recognizes. It’s a little more subdued—but reminds him so much of his new sister.

“Is there anything I can do for the spirits here?” Jason asks. He turns his head to the armored power plant, and he grimaces as he hears the souls scraping to be freed. To meet their finality in the Underworld. “Can I help them find peace too?”

“Perhaps not on your own. Coinage is how my ferryman makes an honest living in these hard times.” Hades pauses once more, and suddenly, his hand lifts from Jason’s shoulders. “But keep asking questions like that. Keep using your voice. Most spirits—they end up in the Fields because they didn’t use their voice when they were alive. For all of your heroic feats, my boy, I never want you to feel unheard.”

He can hear the finality in his father’s words. Jason’s eyebrows knit together. “I have so many more questions.”

“Another time,” Hades says dismissively—though Jason can see that twinkle again. That yearning, to know him in the same way Thalia held every time Jason left Camp Jupiter. “Now—get back to Nico and that strange uncle of yours. I suspect they’ll be needing you soon.”

Hades melts into the shadows, dropping back into the Underworld.

When he disappears, Jason peers back to the memorial—and then to the steel sarcophagus that entombs the deceased.

Jason begins his trek back to his friends, with the promise to help Pripyat’s wandering souls at the end of the war.

*

Nico is awake when Jason gets back. Darkness streaks the sky—and the only warmth is the fire between Uncle Gleeson and the son of Jupiter. When Jason reappears at their tiny campsite, Nico jumps to his feet, hands tucked beneath his armpits for warmth.

“You were gone for a long time,” Nico says, his voice tense.

“ _Without_ snacks?” Uncle Gleeson points out suspiciously.

“We probably don’t want anything from here,” Jason says, and he gestures to the far outskirts of town. “A lot of this stuff hasn’t been touched since the 80s, before the explosion. Plus, it might be radioactive—”

“ _Radioactive_?” Nico echoes, suddenly alarmed, and Jason pauses.

“Yeah—but I think it’s okay. My dad wanted to meet us here, so—”

“Your _dad_?” Nico interjects once more, and his gaze narrows with disbelief. “Your dad wanted to meet you at a _radioactive site_?”

“He had his reasons,” Jason protests—though he quickly has to wonder if his curse applies to radioactivity, too. Jason turns to see the last of orange streak the sky towards the east. His father’s face comes to mind—the somber way his lips remained in a straight line, and how death was just normal to him. “This was the Chernobyl accident. It happened a little before Thalia was born. Enough people died in this accident that he was able to focus here.”

Nico gives him a look. At first, Jason thinks the other demigod is going to make a remark against his father—but instead, Nico gestures in the general direction of Pripyat.

“I guess that makes sense,” Nico says. “He couldn’t choose something a little less…biohazardous?”

Jason snorts, and Nico catches him rubbing his own knuckles. He halts, and instead looks back in the direction of the power plant. “We could have gone anywhere. Maybe a warsite. Maybe a chapel. But I think he chose an accident for a reason.”

His father’s words are already haunting him. After slaying Kronos…after so many funeral pyres, Jason is at a crossroad. He just hopes _peace_ awaits him at the end of his path as much as Hades does.

“You look…better,” Nico suddenly says. “Calmer.”

Jason peers back at the son of Jupiter and notices Nico taking him in. The corner of his own lip curls into a weary smile—he’s not sure how often people are _better off_ after facing death. “Maybe a little. I—”

The sound of a stomach rumbling strikes through them. Uncle Gleeson pats his belly impatiently and stares at the pair.

“Is the grass toxic too?” the old satyr says, and he strokes his beard. “Because I’ve already eaten most of it.”

_“When_?” Nico whirls back around to Uncle Gleeson.

“How about we shadowtravel out of here?” Jason suggests. Nico is shivering and looking paler by the second—while Uncle Gleeson looks ready to make himself another tin can and dandelion salad. “And then we can have some real food? I’ll explain everything Dad and I talked about.”

A few seconds later finds them all strapped in under the Athena Parthenos, which garnered some light snow while Jason was away. He stares up at the evening sky, seeking out Orion’s constellation—and shudders as he reaches for Nico’s hand.

Waits. “Um, Nico?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“I need your hand.”

Nico pauses ever so slightly. “You’re holding it.”

Turning his gaze back to the son of Jupiter, Jason looks down to his palm. Sure enough, Nico’s hand is over his own, and Nico is just staring at him, puzzled. Weird.

“Oh. Okay.” Under the evening light, Jason sinks his party into darkness.

*

Odesa, Ukraine is a little warmer than Pripyat—but not by much. They park the Athena Parthenos in the outskirts of town, and Coach Hedge agrees to keep watch. Nico considers taking off his praetor armor—but he’s pretty sure it’s the only thing keeping him warm right now.

It's late. Nico’s annoyed that Jason made him sleep for most of the day after _warning_ the son of Hades that all he needed was an hour—but Jason looks…better. Less scattered, since Pompeii—which apparently has something to do with meeting Hades. Something that Nico can’t fathom as a _good_ thing.

The scent of seawater makes Nico miss Percy. It’s no California beach—but as they descend down a hilly path, Nico can see the body of water from the distance and it makes his heart ache. He’s frowning before he knows it—and bumps straight into Jason.

“Oof.”

“Sorry.” Jason looks sheepish. “Annabeth would love the architecture here.”

Nico recalls that despite how bitter Annabeth looked, riddled with amnesia and a disdain for their local son of Neptune, she loved all of the buildings around New Rome. He’s glad to see Jason talking fondly about Annabeth again—Jason seems to need it after losing Bianca.

Which—the more Nico learns about his own sister, makes him more uncomfortable.

They find a small restaurant near the coast—partly because Nico misses the view of moonlight over water, and partly because the scent of food draws them near. Luckily—Odesa seems to be enough of a tourist destination that all they have to do is point at pictures in the menu.

“Do you have any money?” Nico asks, when the host gestures to their total.

“Oh—um.” Jason rifles through his leather jacket—but Nico knows from experience that it’s mostly candy wrappers. Nico supposes the end of the world is as good of a time as any to learn that the son of Hades has a sweet tooth. Jason pulls out a crumpled five-dollar bill.

Nico stares.

“Guess not,” Jason says, and his eyebrows knit together—still guilty from being gone for the entire day. “Let me—”

“No,” Nico interjects, and he suddenly rifles through his backpack—to find the wad of cash that Reyna definitely prepared him with. The restaurant worker looks a little less insulted—so Nico throws down an additional bill, just in case.

They wait outside with the bustle of the port town. Nico hears a mix of different languages—Ukrainian, Russian, and a little bit of English. He can’t help but feel out of place—after the many years that the Legion instilled how the Mediterranean Sea is the _Forbidden Land,_ it’s hard to believe that he’s standing here now, cold and shivering in the icy weather.

He wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t remember Venice ever being this awful.

“Thalia normally pays when we go anywhere,” Nico explains, and he tucks his hands under his armpits once again. “Daughter of Riches and all.”

At the mention of the other Grace sibling, Jason perks. Nico used to feel protective of their daughter of Pluto—but these days, that feeling has dulled. Jason loving Thalia is just one more person who understands how special she is.

“I thought she hadn’t been on a quest since the casino,” Jason says. “What happens when Thalia isn’t there?”

The edge of Nico’s lip twitches wryly. “Reyna gets dividends from Amazon. She’s a shareholder.”

Jason chokes on a laugh. _“What_?”

“And the legion provides currencies of all kind for those going on a quest,” Nico continues, breezing over the look of surprise over the other demigod’s face. “Mostly US currency. There’s always at least one retired legionnaire around that helps you on a quest. All you need is the right paperwork.”

And in most cases, making the sky turn gray and causing a few raindrops helps, too. Nico knows Percy has fun with their quests on the coast.

“That sounds really…” Jason’s voice trails off. “Organized.”

“Not even the best plans go unhitched,” Nico mutters, and he’s shivering winter air once again. “The Vulcan and Hephaestus Kids—they built a giant warship in—what, two months? Versus the eight that it probably would’ve taken Leo by himself. Then all cordiality went out the window when he aimed a ballista at New Rome.”

Which—had been an awful thing to negate. Guilt yanks at Nico’s chest as he thinks about how much Piper tried to pacify the Romans. Nico stayed long enough to learn a little more about Piper—how nice and down to earth she was, compared to Thalia and her brash nature. Nico can see why Reyna likes (liked?) her so much—but that was it. Piper was clearly more enthralled with her relationship with Reyna than she was being a mediator to the Greeks and Romans.

And—a praetor who never wanted to be praetor and a daughter of Aphrodite who didn’t want to be a mediator probably weren’t the best people to pacify New Rome.

Without food, Nico’s mouth is bitter.

“Camp Halfblood has a camp store,” Jason offers, and Nico shakes his head in disbelief.

“I can’t even imagine going to a _summer_ camp,” Nico mutters, and he’s shifting between his feet now to keep warm. “What do you do with the rest of the year?”

“What _would_ you do?”

“School,” Nico points out, and he’s genuinely surprised it’s not Jason’s first conclusion. “You can’t honestly tell me that they just knowingly send demigods back to the mortal world for _nine months_ out of the year, can you? The ones who _know_ they’re demigods get hunted even more. _Especially_ us.”

It's why Percy is all the way out in San Francisco instead of Manhattan—because Sally Jackson valued her son getting a good education above all else and can sleep at night knowing Percy will be safe.

Jason considers these words. “I was homeschooled by Chiron when he was around. He was always worried I’d get snatched if I was sent to public school. Since I’ve known for so long.”

Nico snorts. “They tried that with me. Believe me—nothing is more boring than learning from old men in robes who think they know everything. I’d much rather be around people.”

To his surprise, he catches Jason staring. There’s a smile on the son of Hades’s face, and Nico can’t help but frown.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jason says dismissively. “Just thinking about something someone told me a long time ago.”

Nico isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean, but he doesn’t pry. Instead, he shivers in place.

“Do you,” Jason asks slowly, “want my jacket?”

Blue eyes flit over to the son of Hades. Nico’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head in disbelief. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“All that would do is leave you in jeans and a t-shirt,” Nico protests—he’s still surprised that he woke up to…that. Jason’s notorious black leather jacket, which had somehow managed to survive the dangers of Tartarus when Reyna and Thalia appeared in tattered rags. It was surprisingly warm—Nico’s gotten so used to the icy touch of Jason’s hand—now icier because of the northern weather—that he didn’t expect to feel so guarded by it.

He's welcomed it from Thalia before—a blanket near a campfire on their way back to Camp Jupiter. Nico just didn’t expect Jason to care as much—but he’s big-hearted _Thalia’s_ brother, of all people.

Jason shrugs nonchalantly and tucks his hands in his pockets. “The Underworld gets colder. I’m kind of used to it.”

Nico can’t even _imagine_ making frequent trips to the Underworld.

There’s a faint crunch, and suddenly, Jason unearths a fistful of more lollipop wrappers. Even Jason looks surprised by the amount in there—but not necessarily the fact he has them in the first place.

“Do you have that much of a sweet tooth?” Nico arches an eyebrow. He briefly wonders if they need to restock on candy—like Percy and he normally do when they’re on a quest—but Jason only shrugs. He jingles his other pocket, which reveals at least two more lollipops, and hands one to Nico.

“I keep them for the kids at camp.”

Of _course_ he would. Considering all of the praise that Annabeth and Hazel pumped him with before they left Epirus.

Nico rolls his eyes. “Well aren’t _you_ just a regular boy scout.”

Jason shrugs, and there’s a faint smile against his lips. “Sometimes the wrapper doesn’t make it to the trash can right away. I usually dump them later, when I remember.”

Nico shakes his head once more. What kind of camp didn’t have _trash cans_?

“Or the satyrs eat them off the ground,” Jason adds, as though reading Nico’s mind. He crinkles the wrappers until they make a tight wrinkled ball. “This comes with a little less dirt, though.”

“I think Coach Hedge _enjoyed_ the dirt.” Evidently it was the perfect seasoning to the old faun—satyr’s—toxic grass. Jason seemed confident that Pripyat wasn’t going to kill them or gift them with amazing superpowers (no more than usual), but it only leaves Nico wondering.

A crinkly laugh comes from the back of Jason’s throat, and Nico’s surprised at how light it sounds. He turns his attention back to the son of Hades—and realizes for the first time, they’re talking about something unrelated to the quest. Unrelated to purposefully keeping Jason’s mind off his stress and horrors. It’s…nice.

He watches as Jason makes it across the walkway to dump the old candy wrappers. Suddenly—Jason pauses, as though something grabs onto him. When Nico blinks, he thinks he sees a glowing silhouette—and if he focuses, like Thalia advised, he sees the astral form of a deceased little girl.

Jason bends to reach her at eye level—and it’s not like the spirits and skeletons that erupted from the ground—or the aura of Pripyat that made Nico’s stomach churn. Jason nods, hanging onto every word—and then a smile tugs at his lips, like he’s holding back a laugh. He whips out the other lollipop and hands it to the girl. An offering, like muffins for the eidolons.

“What did she say to you?” Nico asks when Jason returns.

“This town used to be a Greek trading settlement, near Histria,” Jason explains. “It…reminds me of something my dad said. Why they chose my name.”

“I don’t think the Argonauts could make it to the _Black Sea._ ”

“They didn’t,” Jason confirms, and he looks amused that Nico considered it an option.

Nico decides not to mention how months ago, he was hoping Jason Grace would meet the same fate as Jason and the Argonauts. “So?”

“They worshipped Apollo as _Apollo Ietros._ The translation is loose—but they called him _the Healer_. _”_ The other edge of Jason’s lip curls into a smile, and he looks even more amused as he stares in Nico’s direction. “And this town was protected by Zeus.”

At the mention of that, Nico snorts.

They take the long way back—if only to take in the sights that their friends are unable to see. The high arches of the buildings—the white panels around windows of vibrant brick. The smell of seawater is enticing. Both of them pause at what looks to be a museum—and Nico’s surprised to see that Jason looks just as interested to go inside.

“You think they have English brochures?” Jason asks.

“I don’t think we’ll be here long enough to find out,” Nico says—and the disappointment in Jason’s face matches Nico’s own. So far Odesa has been the calmest of their adventure—calm enough for Nico to forget that they’re on a quest—but each thing that reminds him of his life in New Rome just makes him want to end the war sooner.

Coach Hedge hops to his feet when he sees them, face stuffed with grass and crumbs. Upon further inspection, Nico realizes the crumbs are actually bits of dirt from the old satyr shoving his face into the ground. “Took you cupcakes long enough!”

“Sorry, Uncle,” Jason offers, and he smiles half-heartedly. “Anyone come after Annabeth’s mom?”

“Couple of wolves. I gave them a good smack though!” Coach Hedge waves his silver baseball bat around and offers a toothy grin. He takes the contents of food out of his paper bag—then starts munching on the bag.

“Let’s cover more ground after this,” Jason declares, and he flashes Nico and Coach Hedge a look. “We need to make up for lost time because of, um…”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees, and the unspoken _because of what happened with the scepter_ lingers. He remembers how cold the air turned when Jason used it back at the Necromanteion. How velvety and dark Jason’s voice sounded from summoning a Legion—and how Moscow resulted much differently. Jason still looks like he feels bad—carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders in a way that reminds Nico of Percy when he came aboard the ship.

It's frustrating—especially after everything that they went through to get it. But Jason doesn’t need any more reasons to beat himself up—like not being able to stop Bianca from leaving. Hating her and hating himself more for feeling that way. Her photo weighs heavily in Nico’s pocket—smooth and crisp, and feeling more vibrant with each new thing he learns about her.

It’s terrifying.

He decides to focus his energy in eating instead: hot boiled dumplings with mashed potatoes on the inside. _Varenyky_ is what the host called them. The warmth is almost otherworldly as it drops to the pit of Nico’s stomach, and he quickly devours another while his companions are eating their own food in the quiet. Nico doesn’t realize how cold and hungry he is until the varenyky steams inside his mouth—and that’s saying something.

“Italy has something like this,” Nico says, suddenly chirpier now with food in his stomach. “But they’re smaller. Except they don’t fill it with potatoes—they put it in the dough. So—I guess, nothing like this.”

He pauses, noticing Jason and Coach Hedge staring back at him in amusement. Red flourishes in Nico’s cheeks. He’s ready to drop the subject, when—

“What’s it called?” Jason asks—and it reminds Nico how Hazel was interested in learning about technopop. Jason looks as genuinely curious as she did.

After a few heartbeats, Nico decides to answer him. “Gnocchi. You’ll find them in Italian restaurants a lot back in the States—but it’s never as good. There was this restaurant near where we lived, when Bianca and I were little. They were the only ones that could make pasta as good as my nonna.”

Jason stares at him curiously, and Nico’s cheeks burn once again.

“My grandmother,” Nico corrects himself.

“I know,” Jason says—which Nico doesn’t expect to hear. He’s caught glimpses and needled details about Bianca from the son of Hades, but it’s still strange to think about. Bianca had this entire life after him—one that was happy…and apparently, in some ways, more miserable. “I’m just surprised you remember.”

Nico scoffs, plucking another dumpling off the plate. “I was young, but I wasn’t _that_ young.”

He remembers holding hands with Bianca across the streets of Venice under the night sky. Crawling into his mother’s bed when there was a storm—and peering up at his mom as she caressed the face of their godly parent, smile on her red lips and full heart on her sleeve.

Nico’s hand brushes against his forehead, where Mama used to kiss him.

“My mother liked to tell ghost stories,” Nico mutters. He remembers sitting at the foot of two rocking chairs, watching his mother’s hands wave around as she and their godly parent acted out scary voices near the flames. “We’d probably be _brothers_ if Jupiter hadn’t called dibs first.”

Jason actually laughs at that—and Nico ends up smiling behind his last varenyky.

“Now that we’re full,” Nico says, “let’s discuss why your dad thought it was smart to drag you to a _nuclear plant._ ”

Jason shrinks, wiping his hands in a paper napkin. “Guess I’m never going to live that one down, am I?”

“Neither will Thalia or Annabeth.” 

With a sheepish smile, Jason explains the gruesome details about the ghost worker that guided him to the Chernobyl power plant. Mutilated face. Chemical burns to the point even his astral form was nothing but burnt flesh. Nico’s nose just wrinkles at the thought of Pripyat. But—then Jason starts explaining the details of Nico’s dream, and puts a name to the red mechanical eyes that Nico’s been seeing. Nico’s face twists when he mentions the Twin Archers.

“We may need the Huntresses after all,” Nico speculates—and he remembers just how uncomfortable Jason looked the first time this was brought up. Jason hasn’t said much about Artemis’s lieutenant—but if Jason can look uncomfortable from the _Huntresses_ and try to pick up Diocletian’s scepter in Split like it’s no big deal, then he knows that’s saying something.

“I sent the message,” Jason reassures, and he grimaces. “Gods willing, they’ll want to answer.”

“Do they know the end of the world is near?” Nico remarks.

“They might not care,” Jason says—and he uses that tone again, the one when he was explaining that Bianca left her old life behind to start a new one with Artemis. Nico can’t help but shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Forsaking a prophecy. Ignoring their father. It sounds… _a lot_ like how Nico feels, but he can’t imagine a world where he didn’t have Thalia, Reyna, or Percy. It just sounds lonely.

“My dad, though,” Jason continues, and his voice takes a gentle turn, “he seemed confident that we’d get the Athena Parthenos to camp on time. He believes in us.”

Nico’s eyebrows shrivel together. For as good of a relationship as he has with Pluto’s daughter, hearing that the God of the Dead is _hopeful_ is almost surreal. “I’m surprised you have such a good relationship with him. I can’t even fathom having one with my dad.”

There are a lot of things Nico doesn’t like about Jupiter as his father. How he was dragged out of his own decade and put in this one to aid in a war. How he was supposed to be some second coming to Camp Jupiter because of his lineage alone. How—after it took an _army_ to slay Krios and defend Mount Tam, Jupiter thought it right to offer him alone immortality, and say nothing of their fallen soldiers. Being Jupiter’s son didn’t come with a lot of _choices._ Saying no is still one of the most exhilarating decisions Nico’s ever made against his father.

Jason suddenly says something he doesn’t expect. “Well—yeah. Because of Juno, right?”

“If you consider a lack of acknowledgement a good relationship, then sure.” Nico snorts and crushes his Styrofoam container. He passes it off to Coach Hedge, who gladly begins to chomp on it. Nico supposes he’s luckier than most of Jupiter’s children. Hercules didn’t get off very well—and Hazel was hidden purposefully for almost a century because of their stepmother.

“No—I mean because she raised you.”

Nico blinks. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything more absurd—but then he looks up to Jason, and notices that the son of Hades hasn’t batted an eye. Jason looks confused. “No—unfortunately, I’m very much a son of Jupiter.”

“Well yeah,” Jason insists, and there’s a certainty to his tone. “Jupiter is your father, but Juno—Hera and your mom are the ones who raised you. Right?”

“No—that’s not—” Nico’s thoughts cease. For some reason, he can’t bring himself to say no. His hands suddenly freeze in his lap, the back of his throat falling dry. “I mean—”

Again, Nico tries to find the words to deny Jason’s claim, but for some reason, they aren’t coming to him.

“Juno doesn’t like children of Jupiter,” Nico finishes lamely. “I should count my lucky stars that she hasn’t tried to kill me.”

Nico thinks her silence on his quests is telling enough. The Queen of the Gods had no intention of ever helping him while he was off venturing with Percy, or with Reyna. She offered no guidance for Thalia and him when they escaped the casino so many years ago.

“Yeah, but you’re _hers_.” But for some reason, Jason keeps on bringing it up, and each mention of Juno and him and _hers_ together suddenly sends Nico’s pulse racing.

He’s never strung those three words together. Juno, him, hers. They sound _weird_ together, but they don’t sound _wrong._ He shakes his head regardless. “I think I would remember if the Queen of the Gods was in my house, Jason. I told you—I was young, but I wasn’t _that_ young.”

For the first time, Jason falls silent. Nico looks back up to Jason, and to his surprise, the son of Hades is taking all of him. Studying him.

Far too intimately.

“Nico,” Jason says quietly, “I wasn’t surprised you remembered because you were young. I’m surprised you remembered because Bianca’s memories were taken away from her.”

Nico’s blood runs cold. _“What_?”

“And,” Jason continues, “I’m starting to wonder if you recovered all of yours.”

It shouldn’t click in Nico’s brain, like a key to a lock. It _shouldn’t._

“On the very first quest Bianca and I ever went on together, Hera aided us. She aided _Bianca_ , because she favored your sister,” Jason says, when Nico is quiet too long. “I think I still remember what she called Bianca. Not by her name, or by child of Zeus. St…stella?”

“Stellina,” Nico corrects offhandedly—which surprises him even more. Even Jason perks at that—but Nico suddenly hates the way Jason is nodding in confirmation.

“That’s the one,” Jason says. He hesitates—and if Nico could see his own face, he’d look pale and sick. “Do you want me to stop?”

There’s a gentle concern to his tone, testing out the waters so Jason doesn’t make waves. It’d confused Nico the other day when the son of Hades said Nico could lean on Jason as much as Jason needed someone else to lean on him. It’s—different, and weird, compared to how used Thalia’s presence Nico is. Jason treads because trudging would be too much. He’s _learned_ that about Nico, but the way he talks…feels like there are things he just _knows_ that Nico doesn’t.

Nico doesn’t want _anything_ to do with this conversation. But he’s suddenly tracing the five bars on his forearm, his thumb against the eagle he’d grown to loathe in his time in the Legion—for all the things that it’s taken from him. Nico is frightened that Jason is about to tell him that Jupiter has taken _more._

He nods his head, his head bowing an inch. Even Jason doesn’t look eager to continue.

The story that _was_ too fuzzy for Nico to remember because he _was_ too young. How at first, Zeus came to court Maria di Angelo like every other god that was attracted to a mortal. But Maria wasn’t like Beryl Grace, who attracted Pluto with her greed and desire for fame—or like Sally Jackson, who fell for Neptune after a post-graduation summer fling.

In typical di Angelo fashion, Maria didn’t make it easy. Nico remembers his mother being very beautiful—so there’s no doubt in his mind that she attracted the favor of a god—but she ignored the king like both her children.

Nico thinks about the story of how Jupiter courted Juno—how the Queen of the Gods wasn’t fond of him at first but promised to wed if Jupiter could get Juno to admit she cared for him. He’d turned into a bird, feigning an injury so she could nurse him back to health, and then tricked her into marriage. ( _Tricked_ was the PG version—because little Nico di Angelo hated the _true_ version of the story. The one that was abhorrently disgusting.) 

After that, Zeus notoriously continued sticking his dick in every other nymph and orifice that he could find that wasn’t his wife.

But there wasn’t trickery here. Half the fun for the King of the Gods was the chase—until he could claim his conquest. Zeus took Maria di Angelo on every possible date, chatted her up into boredom—and even managed to swing a date in the Underworld to entertain her love of ghosts.

He chased long enough, for his wife to notice. And Nico’s mom welcomed Hera’s furious haze with a succulent plate of—

“Tiramisu,” Nico murmurs, because he suddenly remembers eating it every year on a special day. The day his mother met the Queen of the Gods. His mom liked to sprinkle pomegranate seeds on top of the desert instead of raspberries or blueberries. He used to think it had something to do with his mom’s fascination with the dead, but—

—but now he can see Hera’s warm skin, with her perfectly done makeup and glossy hair, staring down at him as Nico peered into her motherly face. He hears the fond pet name of his sister— _stellina—_ said in her rich voice, which was as elegant as the primped feathers of her symbol—the peacock.

He sees his younger self, light and happy under the warm Venice sky, with his reflection staring back at him from the blue canals. He can _hear_ Bianca lecturing him about running too fast—but as Nico looks down, he can see the silhouette of his two parents against the calm waters.

Mama, with her glossy wavy hair that both her children inherited, and the beautiful smile that Nico often saw when he peered down at the photograph gifted to him months ago.

_Mammina_ , with her pristine white dress rippling eloquently as she walks hand-in-hand with Nico’s mother. With a cape made of peacock feathers, more regal than any mortal queen, and a face that only softened in the wake of Maria di Angelo.

His throat dries.

“Hera is the goddess of marriage. She doesn’t have affairs, like other gods do,” Jason continues, but the words are faint in Nico’s ears. He doesn’t know when it started, but he’s filling in the gaps where Jason pauses—reconstructing bridges, where thoughts were fuzzy. Where he thought he’d forgotten as he’d grown up—but it suddenly doesn’t feel like that’s the case. “So she asked Zeus to help bear her a child, twice.”

“And,” Nico asks, his voice faint in his own ears, “she just willingly gave up this information?”

Jason hesitates—and Nico can only wonder what the look on his own face is. Nico feels distant. His hands shake, like he’s seen Jason’s so many times before—but the tremors ascend to his entire body. It’s another thing that Jason knows _so much_ about that Nico himself— _looking_ at Nico like he’s reading words off a page. Except its worse—because every word is something new that Nico himself isn’t familiar with. That Nico can _slowly_ feel the familiarity of.

“She gave Bianca words,” Jason says slowly. “And everything else was like opening a floodgate. I think—I think Hera wanted to help Bianca learn about her past, to help with the prophecy. But the more she learned, the less Bianca wanted to accept it.”

“But how did she forget in the first place?” Nico asks—almost demands. His voice is shaking with the rest of his body. “How did _we_ forget?”

Jason studies him, pale eyebrows knitting together. “Nico, I don’t think—”

“How?”

“The oracle spoke of the prophecy,” Jason says quietly. “The one I ended up being a part of. Zeus—he wanted a stake in the war. Even if he didn’t have a hand in raising you, you still have his blood running through your—”

“He kidnapped us,” Nico fumes, and his hands angrily curl into his fists. He tries to dig through his memories—but the distance between his father and himself is familiar, even in childhood. He remembers the loving stroke of his godly parent in his hair—but it’s not the one he’s grown used to. The one branded on his arm, when Thalia saved from the Lotus Casino. “How did we lose our memories?”

Each question is more demanding, angrier than the last, but the cluster of emotions is just _bubbling_ in Nico.

“The River Lethe,” Jason says. “He knew you were loyal to Hera. If he kidnapped you as you were—you wouldn’t have forgiven him—”

“I _don’t_ forgive him,” Nico snaps—and he watches as Jason visibly jumps at the tone of his voice. He stares back at the son of Hades, his entire chest just hurting as the memories seem to float around freely now, all-encompassing. “And your dad—he just _let_ Zeus do this?”

Nico knows the answer before Jason even has to say anything—no one _lets_ Zeus do _anything_. He does what he wants. He always has, as King of the Gods. And Nico _knows_ he’s glaring at Jason now, as if asking, did _Jason_ let Zeus do this? He knows it isn’t fair, but his mind is _swarming_ , and Nico can hardly catch a breath.

“My dad runs tight security with Thanatos, but even he can’t guarantee one or two people won’t escape from him. The Doors of Death being open—that was—well, hell, for him,” Jason says. For some reason, he hesitates with his next words—and Nico wishes he didn’t say them at all. “Think about Achilles. His mother dipped him in the River Styx.”

“So my life was just some poker chip he threw on the table so _he_ had a chance at winning.” Except it’s worse—because Nico was fated to go west, with Thalia, and Bianca went east, towards Jason. Nico laughs, but the sound _hurts._ “He wanted a stake on both sides of the war, didn’t he? So both of his children could claim glory under his name. Bianca and I—we could’ve lived a normal life with Mama and Mammina—”

His voice halts, because the old name he used to call Juno feels too familiar against his mouth. Nico doesn’t like it—not at all. He thinks back to months ago—to the nonplussed look that Juno flashed him when Annabeth Chase arrived at Camp Jupiter—and wonders _just how much more_ was there. How much did he not remember because of the River Lethe? Because his memories are just one more thing that Jupiter took from him—along with his mother, his sister, and his _other_ mom?

“Nico,” Jason says gently—and raising his gaze to the son of Hades is like preparing a dagger in hand. “I’m sorry. I thought—since Bianca figured it out, maybe you had along the way, too.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Bianca,” Nico snaps. “Stop forgetting that.”

The moment Nico says that, he thinks he should regret it. Jason cringes under his gaze—those big, charcoal eyes suddenly streaking with hurt. He looks like he wants to protest—or apologize again—which is worse. Bianca was a sore subject to begin with. Nico’s realizing that she’s _still_ a sore subject—not just for Jason, but himself, too.

The air changes. The stars streaking the night sky suddenly darken with cold clouds, hiding moonlight until even Jason’s face looks like a shadow. The tips of Nico’s fingers tingle—growing wispier with each passing moment of using his powers, like in Pripyat.

Nico curses under his breath and dismisses the storm as best he can—but there’s a sharp jolt from the edge of his fingers through his knuckles, like someone dropped an anvil on them. They’re starting to blur and look faded—like one his father’s many clouds.

“Nico,” Jason whispers. “Your hands—”

He reaches out with concern, but Nico shirks away. There’s a kindness in his tone that combats Nico’s own ferocity—he’d grown used to receiving that from Thalia as he mourned the death of his sister the first time—but it bothers him now, as he finds himself fretting and mourning the old, happy life that he used to have.

The old, happy life that he didn’t even _remember_ properly.

“It’s fine,” Nico insists, and he flies to his feet. “We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s get moving.”

“But—”

“Jason,” Nico interrupts—and he keeps his frustrations in check. He looks back up at Jason—and the smile from earlier is gone. The one that joked about the _Healer_ and Zeus, the _Protector._ This Jason knew _far too much_ and not enough at all about Nico, and it terrifies him just as much as knowing how Bianca lived after their paths diverged. “I don’t want to talk about it. _Any_ of it.”

For emphasis, Nico coils his hand over his gladius, away from the son of Hades’s line of sight, and then nods to the Athena Parthenos.

Fortunately, despite the look on Jason’s face, he doesn’t protest. “Okay.”

Nico doesn’t want to talk, and Jason doesn’t have the right words, anyway.

When they shadowtravel that night, not one more word is spoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the funniest thing I found out last night is that Zeus and Hera apparently bore a daughter named Angelos. Hope you guys enjoyed this! It's been a long time coming since we hadn't had Maria's explanation quite yet. Let's see how it helps/hurts their journey moving forward! 8)


	9. bad decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Die for me, Jason._
> 
> **Die for me.**
> 
> _  
> **For me, Jason.**  
> _

Tonight’s dream is about Luke.

Handsome, boyish Luke with sandy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a smile that looked like life had been breathed into him. He favored his mom, May Castellan, the way Jason favored Beryl. Before the dragon scar could dull the kindness of his gaze. Jason’s favorite Luke.

Jason is six again, hiding between Chiron’s legs and peering to the new additions to their camp—the handsome son of Hermes, who knew nothing about him, and smiled at him in a way that made his heart flutter—the first time his heart has _ever_ done something like that. Luke came with Jason’s new best friend—the Daughter of Wisdom, who smiled just as warmly at him because Luke did, too.

Their lives are a little more tragic than Jason’s own—they didn’t have Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone to protect them against the _bad_ monsters. They have each other—and both Luke Castellan and Annabeth Chase be _damned_ if they ever let the other die. They _promised_ each other over a celestial bronze dagger to keep each other safe.

And at the end of the day, Luke Castellan watches with relief as Annabeth is able to scamper off to Cabin Six with the then-head counsellor. Watches, as the girl he’s grown to love and protect as a little sister can just _stay_ little and _be_ a kid under the protection of Camp Halfblood.

Seven-year-old Annabeth follows her new older sister to meet the rest of her gray-eyed siblings and to finally be a kid.

Fourteen-year-old Luke, with the charming smile and mischievous gleam, follows six-year-old Jason, son of Hades, to the Hermes Cabin—where Jason has never _really_ been a kid, and is only safe _for now._ Chiron and Mr. D can and _will_ _try_ to keep him safe, _for now._

At the age of six, Jason knows how to use a sword. He’s good with a knife, for close combat, and he’s learning the motions to fight with his fists. He’s not the _best_ at archery, but he’s not the worst, either—and the famous instructor of Greek heroes, Chiron, tells him he needs to know all forms of combat. To be as prepared as possible.

Knowing he’s a demigod so young—that’s an _advantage_ , Chiron says. Jason can train harder and hone his skills—he can be the force to overthrow the Olympian Gods’ greatest fears.

He’ll be better than all the great heroes, Chiron promises.

Most of those great heroes have died tragic deaths, Jason never says.

He’s six.

And in the dark of the night, tossing and turning in his bed when Kronos’s terrifying voice is all-consuming, little six-year-old Jason is having the same nightmare within a nightmare. His father isn’t welcomed in Olympus. _He_ isn’t welcomed in Olympus. Jason will stand alone, like the eldest god at his throne below—alone, like after his mother died. Alone, abandoned, with no one to want him—the _true_ him, Kronos hisses in his ear. Kronos offers an out from loneliness, because otherwise, Jason may fail. _Will_ fail.

Luke tells six-year-old Jason that he _isn’t_ alone. He wakes Jason up in the middle of the night when the shadows croak and croon with Jason’s tearful face—when most ignore him out of fear of having those nightmares themselves—and reminds him he has the satyrs, who raised him from the age of two.

The campers, who moved him into the Hermes Cabin at the age of five because they were concerned about his wellbeing. _Luke_ —who is _here_ and has already faced the horrors the outside world has to offer, and doesn’t want this new home to be horrific, too.

Luke’s the protector of Cabin Eleven. Protector of their people because being a demigod is _hard._ Jason’s protector.

Jason gets to be six, crawling into Luke’s bed when the tears swell far too big at the corners of his eyes, and when his chest just _aches_ from all of the pain that has yet to come. Luke’s heartbeat is his favorite song because it reminds him that they can be the same. Two demigods without a mortal parent and an absentee godly parent. He gets to be held and protected instead of training with a sword at hand and knife on his small belt loop and feel Luke’s breath on the back of the neck.

The same part of his neck, where the curse doesn’t reach.

Jason still remembers the burn of Styx’s waters against his skin. The touch colder than ice yet _burning_ against the hairs on his forearms.

_“This is what you want_?” Hades’s words still echo in his mind, etched against the walls of his brain so he can never forget.

It’ll change the tide of the war. Prevent more people from dying. Keep more tragedies, like Bianca, from happening. Bring peace—and he should’ve done it a long time ago. He shouldn’t have dismissed the idea so easily, when Annabeth pitched it. When there were still years before they needed to _really_ worry about the prophecy, when Luke encouraged Jason to learn about his powers, so Annabeth did, too. When Jason thought, _there’s no way we’re going to lose, because Luke’s here._

But Jason has _never_ just been a kid, and he was _never_ going to be ordinary.

When he imagines the rope to take him out of the River Styx, it feels like a _noose_ —because all he can think about are those nights before the dragon scar, when Luke would hold him close and protect his heart. Because even at the other side of the war, Jason wanted Luke.

_He didn’t have a choice. Never had a choice. Save Annabeth or let her die. Use the skills taught by Chiron and honed by the Styx, or let Kronos win._

_Sleep_ , said the Luke in Tartarus. Jason’s favorite Luke, before the dragon scar. Before the unsuccessful quest for Hermes, before every single word out of Luke’s mouth was laced with hate and disdain towards the gods.

_You can afford it_ , said the Luke with the scar—the long, jagged wound that was only one of _many_ that Luke received that day.

_You don’t have to do this anymore_ , said the pale Luke—the one who readily sold his soul to Kronos to destroy the gods. (To protect their kind, Luke reasoned, when Jason was eleven. But everything sounded reasonable when it came from Luke’s mouth—because Jason trusted _everything_ that came from Luke’s mouth.)

_Close your eyes, Jason_ , demanded the golden Luke—the one that glowed _too_ brightly because he was already _too_ gone. Too vicious, too cold, and nothing like the Luke that Jason had fallen in love with when he was a little boy—the one who overtook Luke Castellan’s very last breath and crushed Jason’s very soul with it. _Die for me, Jason._

He feels the shattered glass in the air of Tartarus, dragging in his lungs. He _hears_ Ahklys mocking his pain, _enticing_ him with poison—enticing him to tears over the boy who he loved too much and left.

_Die for me, Jason._

**Die for me.**

****

**_For me, Jason._ **

****

Drink the poison, starve to death, burn alive, get electrocuted—just _sleep._ All the ways Jason morbidly wondered how he could still die after obtaining the curse. There are more. Jason made a long list after the war—because he wanted ( _needed_ ) to know death could still be final for him. That he could still be ordinary and normal in some capacity, like Bianca wanted.

And death could be his choice. Here.

Luke already has his heart and knows all of him. Luke took it when he went away—they always just _leave_ when they know more about him. How he feels. They go to places where he can’t follow, and Jason’s _angry_ for it.

“Don’t do it,” he hears—a light, feathery voice that is the antithesis of the _burning_ Jason feels in the hole in his chest, when Ahklys shows him all of the Lukes—his favorite Luke, the tragic Luke—bloody Luke, with Jason’s own bloody hands holding the bloody knife. “Stop giving into him.”

He hears the faint cry of dogs—hellhounds, maybe? Cerberus, calling for him at the entrance of his dad’s domain, far above the pits of Tartarus. Barking.

“Stop, Jace,” the voice says.

“Die for me, Jason,” Luke says.

Jason doesn’t want to turn around.

But he doesn’t want to die, either.

He wants—he wants…

He wakes up.

*

Nico jostles him awake.

Jason shoots up, sweat drenching his brow and hands coiled into dirt. Looking around, Jason sees the evening sky. They were in Ukraine for all of five seconds, and the longer they go west, the more they’re met with snow and brisk weather that make the nights unbearable and daylight fleeting.

Uncle Gleeson is off in the distance, muttering into an Iris message with Mellie. The Athena Parthenos looms above them, casting a noble look off into the distance under moonlight. Jason has to look to their surroundings—to see cold snow instead of burning ash. To see _real_ people instead of ghosts. Jason touch his forehead, to make sure his thoughts are in his mind, and to feel his own pulse.

“You had another nightmare,” Nico says. His voice is as quiet as air. He pulls his hand away, preventing it from lingering too long. “You okay?”

“I—” Jason’s voice is as dry as it was in his dream. He sneaks a peek at the son of Jupiter—not quite a full glance, like he would before. “Yeah. I’m okay. Um. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Nico mumbles—and Jason can see _enough_ of Nico to know that the other demigod doesn’t want to look him in the eye, either. “No problem.”

After that, Nico saunters back to the campfire, shivering and tucked under his cloak.

Far away from Jason.

_Good job, Grace._

A sigh flutters from Jason’s lips, and he rubs the sleep from his eyes. Jason pushes himself from the ground and slowly follows Nico’s trek to the campfire. He feels Nico’s eyes on him, keeping a careful watch to make sure Jason sits on the _other_ side of the flames. There’s a sandwich waiting for him—and Jason can only guess that someone went into town while he was resting.

“How are your hands?” Jason asks gently. Nico doesn’t let Jason look at them.

Under the light of the fire, Nico is huddled under his cloak and frowning. He changed positions the last time they shadowtraveled, wedging Coach Hedge between the two of them instead of holding Jason’s hand and obscuring himself from Jason’s line of sight.

Jason said too much, so Nico pushed away.

And—Jason’s not quite proud of how they got there, either.

Nico reaches out of his little purple huddle, and Jason can see the haziness around Nico’s fingers. It reminds him of fog or clouds—eerily misty and not at all solid.

“Not very handy,” Nico jests humorlessly.

Off in the distance, Jason can hear Uncle Gleeson casting reassurance to his wife. At least _someone_ was having a peaceful night.

“Why’s this happening to you?” Jason asks quietly. He resists the urge to reach out and grab Nico’s hands—because he has a feeling that it would only push Nico further away from him.

The silent treatment continued across most of Ukraine. The fumes had dissipated—otherwise Nico wouldn’t have felt compelled to wake Jason up like earlier. But the burn is still there. Nico’s even more cautious now of Jason—warier. All because Jason was dumb enough to open his mouth.

He was finding that comfort again, like after Luke. Like with Bianca.

_I’m not Bianca. Stop forgetting that._

The door on their friendship shut as fast as it opened, Jason thinks—and his fingers got caught in the threshold. No pun intended.

To his surprise, Nico answers. He gestures to the cloudy skies—which Jason was learning as of late were much more attuned to Nico’s emotions than the other demigod let on. “This cold weather. The north winds—they’re controlled by Aquillon. My—Jupiter— _I—_ ” Nico corrects himself so many times that it ends with him scowling.

Jason’s eyebrows furrow together—but when he shows the slightest bit of concern, Nico’s demeanor threatens him against it.

“I don’t have as good of a grasp over the snow as I do other storms,” Nico admits, and Jason notices that Nico’s eyes go to the sky, to his own hands, and the campfire—but never Jason’s own gaze. “California gets cold, but hardly cold enough for an ice storm. Not to mention—between the three of us—”

“I know,” Jason finishes quietly. “You’re doing most of the fighting.”

When they were on the ship, Jason was recovering. His first breath out of the jar was life itself returning—overwhelming, and too much all at once. Percy didn’t like him—not if that meant Reyna and the _other_ Grace sibling fell down in Tartarus instead. Annabeth accepted he was there. Leo was more preoccupied keeping the ship intact, but Jason learned Leo missed his family in New Rome more than he enjoyed being a hero—and that’s something Jason can’t fault him for. Hazel and Frank made sure he ate—and they were the only Greek and Roman duo at the time who were able to get along in some capacity.

Jason’s thankful that he hasn’t had to lift a sword for more than a monster pedicure. But he also knows he should count his blessings.

“Thank you, for keeping me safe,” Jason says quietly. He leans forward, hands against the fleeting embers, and raises his gaze to Nico, even if the other demigod won’t look at him.

In return, Nico’s expression shifts vaguely, his blue eyes glinting a soft purple under the fire. “Yeah, well. Thanks for volunteering to travel.”

Jason watches the shadows dancing against Nico’s face, his gaze hard and expression still guarded. It’s different from the other day when the edge of Nico’s lips had curled into a mirthful smile and they spoke about school. Jason liked hearing those stories about Nico’s grandmother and the food that she used to make. He’s guilty of one thing for sure—Nico telling stories about his past over a warm meal reminds Jason of Bianca doing the same.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason feels compelled asking—and Nico’s gaze snaps dangerously towards him.

Nico’s lips curl into a palpable frown, his hands tucked between his legs.

“When Bianca found out,” Jason says slowly, “she had a hard time processing it, too.”

Bianca was already angry for a lot of reasons. Coming to Camp Halfblood without her brother already made Bianca bitter. Finding out that she was a pawn in her father’s game made her angry. And—whatever happened after she went missing for a week made nothing else matter.

There wasn’t room in Bianca’s heart for Jason. There were already too many other emotions of grief, disdain, and frustration—all the things that Jason thought he felt himself.

He’s not sure what to expect. Jason’s already has two strikes against himself—one for mentioning Bianca, one from mentioning Juno. Nico probably wants to be around him less than he wants to go to the nuclear plant again.

The last time he mentioned Bianca, Nico hastily snapped at him. Now, Nico’s gaze narrows at him, his expression calm and wrinkle between his brow.

“I,” Nico starts slowly, and it sounds like he has to figure out if he truly means his words, “appreciate it, Jason. But you’re not who I want to talk about this with.”

The words are calm enough. The sky isn’t suddenly filled with dark clouds, and Nico isn’t glaring at him with such ferocity.

“I’m here, Nico,” Jason says softly. “I—I _know_ you’re not Bianca. But I was there for her. I can be there for you, too—”

“ _Stop doing that_ ,” Nico urges—and there’s a sense of irritation in his tongue, then squeezes his eyes shut.

Jason’s throat grows dry, and he watches as Nico forces himself to remain calm. He knows pushing isn’t a good idea. Nico’s very first reaction to him was to stay guarded—and he’s staying guarded now, too. He’s not Bianca, who confided in Jason in the quietest of nights so she could spend the next morning in peace.

But Nico isn’t Bianca, any more than Jason is Thalia.

“Okay,” Jason says, and he holds his tongue. Pushing each other’s buttons isn’t going to get them closer to Camp Halfblood. “We should get going again.”

“Yeah,” Nico mumbles, and he stands to his feet. He pulls out a vial of unicorn draught and drenches it over his hands. They don’t seem to do much—Nico’s hands look slightly less hazy at best.

“How’s Mellie doing, Uncle Gleeson?” Jason asks as they get back to the Athena Parthenos.

Uncle Gleeson tips his hat and solemnly straps himself in beside Jason. There was a time where Jason barely came up to the old satyr’s stomach—and now he towers over his uncle.

“The sooner we get back, the better,” Uncle Gleeson says. He raises his gaze to Jason—and despite the tough exterior that taught Jason how to swing a bat and coil his fists, Uncle Gleeson looks soft. “I just want to be with my family, kid.”

“You’re not the only one,” Jason hears Nico mumble.

At this point, Jason knows where Nico keeps the photo of Bianca—in his left pocket, furthest away from his sword so it won’t get damaged. But that’s not the family he’s talking about.

“We could straight-shot it,” Jason suggests. “From here to Camp Halfblood. I can make it.”

He can use his powers. Use his strength, like Hades suggested.

Hades suggested a lot of things, the voice in Jason’s head reminds him. Use his voice. His voice got him in an awkward situation with Nico.

Uncle Gleeson looks doubtful. “I dunno, kid. I don’t want to end up in a volcano again.”

“I’m more focused this time,” Jason insists.

“Your dreams say otherwise,” Nico cuts in—and Jason winces. He looks up with those sharp blue eyes, his expression focused on Jason. The intensity almost makes him jump.

Jason reruns Nico’s words in his mind and his heart drops. Nico jostled him awake for a reason, he reminds himself.

“What did you hear?” Jason swallows hard—

And to his surprise, Nico looks less agitated and more concerned. “Enough.”

_Enough_ is probably _too much._ Jason curls his hand around Uncle Gleeson’s, but he suddenly has a hard time raising his gaze again.

“Safe is better than sorry,” Nico says. “Don’t strain yourself.”

Safe is better than sorry.

Jason gives a short nod, and shadowtravels them into darkness.

*

Another dream about Luke. Another hallucination. Jason is fifteen in his dream, remembering what it was like to be six. Remembering fourteen-year-old Luke’s arm around his torso, protecting him because the gods can’t. Because the gods won’t.

This was the fantasy that he had when he was at the bottom of Styx, with Alecto waiting for him to emerge. She guided him to Camp Halfblood—so it only makes sense that she guided him to the oath-binding river, too. He wasn’t comfortable with his father’s gaze at the age of fifteen. But for thirteen years, he missed the Fury who took care of him on his journey to his new life. Someone who still loved _all_ of him before Chiron began training him as a hero for Olympus above, and dismiss everything below.

Until Luke. With his sandy blond hair and clear blue eyes that filled Jason’s dreams to keep the nightmares at bay. The Luke who saw him chatting with the serpent in the canoe lake and occasional monster that entered the forest and called it cool. He thought _that_ Jason was as cool as the one that could wave a sword.

The arms don’t quite wrap around him at fifteen the way they did at six. It’s firmer. More intimate, and so welcomed because this Luke’s grasp around his heart is so _familiar._ Jason wants Luke to cradle his heart with the same gentle touch that he was cradled as a child, and he feels so at _peace_ in this small little twin bed in Cabin Eleven.

_“He’s too old for you!”_ he can remember seven-year-old Annabeth accusing, when Luke smiled a second longer at him than her.

_“You already **have** people!” _Jason remembers retorting. Because Annabeth _did_ have people. _Does._ She has a whole cabin of brothers and sisters, and while Luke did too, he paid extra attention to Jason.

At the bottom of the River Styx, Luke isn’t too old. Jason can turn around to look into Luke’s face—which isn’t nearly as chiseled and looks healthy without emanating with sickening power.

Jason has to remind himself that Luke did this, too.

Luke bathed in the River Styx, too.

When he emerges, _that_ Luke won’t be _his_ Luke.

The one holding him now, with a hand over his heart is _his_ Luke. Close enough to kiss.

Jason doesn’t want to leave. He wants time to stand still in this very moment, watching the sleeping face of the boy who had his heart before he knew what love was, counting Luke’s eyelashes before the dragon scarred his face. Time stands still here, where Jason is only a breath away from Luke’s face—Luke’s laughter. Luke’s voice.

_“Jace_ ,” calls a voice. “ _Where **are** you?” _

There’s a rope around Jason’s neck. Tugging. The twine burns against his flesh—but given _all_ of him is drenched in the oath-binding waters, the ache of the twine is comparable to a flick of a wrist. In that moment—back on the eve of Jason’s birthday—that rope was suffocating.

It wanted to bring him back to the surface.

People _need_ him.

He’s doing this for a _reason._

There are hellhounds barking again, above the surface of the River Styx. The rich sound of his father’s realm around him, encompassing him like the waters of the Styx arms him.

He doesn’t want to leave.

But he needs to change the tide of the war.

And this Luke—this Luke already left Jason a long time ago.

The rope tugs again— _yanks_ —and Jason is gasping for air when he wakes up.

*

Nico is on a call with the Argo II when Jason wakes up. Far away, under a clear sky. The air is more tolerable than Russia. Less deadly, than Pripyat. Nico finally looks an appropriate color with his olive-toned skin and his blue eyes, hair jutting in different directions from an evidently fitful sleep. Uncle Gleeson is making noises as he punches the air.

“…a dream about Piper…,” is what Jason hears when he walks the length of the current campsite.

In the haze of the image, Jason sees Thalia and Reyna—New Rome’s senior praetors, dressed more functionally in jeans and a t-shirt, compared to the praetor armor that Nico vocally said he wasn’t a fan of.

He sees Reyna’s gaze flitter to Thalia for a brief second at the mention of the daughter of Aphrodite, but Thalia already looks contemplative of their next move.

“You had a dream about Piper?” Jason asks, and Nico visibly jumps at the sudden intrusion.

Nico turns around, his expression suddenly darkening.

In the Iris Message, Jason watches Thalia’s lips curl into a tired smile, weathered since their last reunion. _“Hi, baby brother._ ”

“Thalia,” Jason greets, and the tone is even more gentle on his tongue than he anticipated. Jason doesn’t realize just how much he misses his older sister until he’s staring at her now. The bags under her eyes. The narrow line of her jaw. How her freckles seem to fade in and out, like tiny specks of light on her face. “Hey.”

“I was letting you sleep,” Nico explains quietly—and his gaze raises ever so slowly to Jason. “You looked like you needed it.”

Jason decides not to mention that Nico didn’t shake him awake this time. He’s physically aware of the next breath he takes—feeling bruised and swollen in his throat. But—that’s not Nico’s burden to bear.

_Let me be what Bianca couldn’t for you._

Bianca wouldn’t stay. Neither would Luke. Jason’s getting used to a pattern these days, watching as Nico looks at him without really _looking_ at him.

_“Glad to see the two of you are getting along_ ,” Thalia says unintentionally. Her eyes flash with a loving concern that needles at Jason’s chest. _“Have you been sleeping okay?”_

There’s a hidden question within her question. Jason smiles back faintly, watching as Reyna’s hand instinctively reaches to cover his sister’s. To give her strength, as Nico would say. “Have you?”

_“Just gotta throw myself back in the motions. I’ll be fine, Jason,”_ Thalia says.

_“We both are, Nico_ ,” Reyna reassures, and Jason turns enough to see that the son of Jupiter is frowning. _“We have each other._ ”

_“She keeps me sane_ ,” Thalia says, and she winks. _“Having each other helps. I can only hope the same is true for you, Jason._ ”

“You Cupcakes better not be up to any funny business!” Uncle Gleeson shouts, and he waves his speakerphone around. “Don’t think I can’t lecture you from over here! The snake says quack!”

At Uncle Gleeson’s word, both Roman praetors make a face—and even Nico bites back a smile. It’s the first one in a couple of days.

“Uncle Gleeson’s been a big help keeping the wolves away,” Jason reassures—and slowly, he turns his gaze. “And so has Nico.”

At the mention of his name, the son of Jupiter raises his gaze, one eyebrow arched in the air.

Thalia only looks happier. _“I know you’ve been doing that for a while now, Neeks. Thanks for keeping my other brother safe._ ”

Nico’s expression wavers. Jason can see it in Nico’s eyes—how the words are the tip of his tongue. But Nico doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he nods his head in a swift motion and inches just the tiniest bit closer to Jason. Reyna seems to notice before Thalia can make a comment.

_“We’ll be together soon_ ,” Reyna promises. _“All of us._ ”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees—though from his tone of voice, it’s easy to tell that he’s getting restless. “Soon.”

The howl of winds from the other side of the Iris Message cuts them off. There’s screaming over the Argo II— _Percy’s_ , maybe? A mention of a storm, a lot of swearing—and a brief flash of Hazel running in the background while Thalia grips Reyna through the rustling of the ship.

She opens her mouth to speak _. “Nico, Jason—”_

_“BYE!”_ Reyna shouts—and the Iris Message fades away. 

With the message gone, the three of them are left in a palpable silence. Jason watches as Nico shifts his weight between his feet. He looks to Uncle Gleeson, who looks like he’s still grumbling about _unsupervised teenagers_ alone on a ship. The old satyr looks between the two of them, then clears his throat.

“Breakfast, cupcakes? Or lunch? Dinner?” Uncle Gleeson scratches one of his horns and makes a face. “I don’t even know what to call it anymore.”

“Food is good, Uncle Gleeson,” Jason agrees. He turns inquisitively to Nico, who gives a slow nod.

“Good!” Uncle Gleeson mutters something else under his breath— _teenagers_ again, Jason thinks—then begins his trot back to their campsite. Leaving both Jason and Nico to their own musings.

“I should have woken you up,” Nico mutters quietly. “Sorry.”

Jason stares in surprise. For all of the silence that he’s received from the other demigod, an apology isn’t the first thing that he expected to hear. The corner of his lip twitches tiredly and he shrugs. “Nothing I’m not used to by now.”

Nico’s gaze darts back to him—and Jason is even more confused.

“Um. You…didn’t tell them. About…” Jason trails off. He gestures to Nico’s hazy fingers.

Nico follows his gaze and then shakes his own fingers, nodding in acknowledgement. “They’ll only worry more if I bring it up. They don’t need that right now.”

“You’re…pretty worried about them, though.”

“That’s never going to change,” Nico says dismissively. He stares into the evening dusk, looking significantly less cold compared to the other places they’ve traversed. “The air is a little warmer here. It’ll be easier to summon a storm if we need to make a quick getaway.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself,” Jason says gently. Even if Nico won’t let him, Jason _is_ starting to worry about the other demigod. It was easier when they were warming up to each other and talking. Nico’s the one who put his foot forward about Luke and insisted on Jason staying in Thalia’s cabin on the ship. Jason’s gotten used to Nico’s companionship, so to take such a huge step back feels…

Feels too familiar.

Nico’s expression is reminiscent to before. Guarded, but still concerned about Jason’s own wellbeing. Jason thinks Nico is right—he really _doesn’t_ know enough about the son of Jupiter to really form an opinion. Bianca wore her heart on her sleeve in comparison—and the words _I’m not Bianca_ keep replaying in Jason’s mind.

“I…” The word fumbles from Jason’s lips. “I just don’t want you to push yourself. Not with everything that’s been going on, with…your powers, and with Hera—”

“I can handle it,” Nico interjects, and he’s as curt as before, still steely against the new information about the Queen of the Gods. “We’ll push through now so we can get the Athena Parthenos to Camp Halfblood in time. That’s what you wanted, right? To keep moving forward.”

Nico isn’t wrong. Jason had uttered those words with the anxiety of this Greek-Roman war pumping through his veins—but he wasn’t in the right headspace in Pompeii. Frankly, he’s not quite sure he’s in the right headspace now, either—not with Luke so fresh on his mind. But there’s still doubt bubbling in his stomach.

“Yeah,” Jason says slowly, “but you’re the one who said not to carry the weight of the twenty-foot statue on my own. You don’t need to, either.”

Again, Nico’s expression morphs with reluctance. Despite all of the insistence that Jason needed to process his feelings, he’s learning very quickly that Nico is just as stubborn about his own.

Jason misses the nights leading up to Pripyat—under the campfire where they unwound in small strokes. Even with the cold, brisk air, it’s been nice to sit by the warmth of company and glance at the stars above with Nico. It used to be his favorite thing about living at Camp Halfblood—but the embers of a warm summer had been replaced with the bleakness of burning funeral pyres instead.

Somehow, under the cool spring air of their journey, Jason was able to find that first light. Away from Camp Halfblood he’s able to breathe in a way that became impossible when Luke left. When they had to shed the guise of a fun _summer camp_ and had to prepare for war.

Even the topics that neither of them _wanted_ to talk about weren’t shrouded in a dangerous air. They weren’t persistent against the dismissal of Zoe Nightshade, Reyna’s sister, or Pip—

“You were starting to tell them about your dream about Piper,” Jason says suddenly, and he notices Nico wince at that. “Is there something I need to know?”

Jason didn’t spend a lot of time trying to get to know the daughter of Aphrodite. In the month that Reyna was learning about Camp Halfblood, he tried to stay out of it. Reyna understood how pragmatic she needed to be about the switch. Gaea was a bigger enemy, Reyna had said. And despite coming to a camp that disregarded her existence, she knew to focus on preventing a war. At the very least, prolonging it.

Hazel, of course, sought his advice as a fellow Big Three kid and _chosen one._ She embraced the role so quickly after coming back to life that Jason was never compelled to compare her to Bianca. She found a home at Camp Halfblood after waking up and found peace.

Of the three of them, Piper made Jason the most nervous. She was the daughter of _the_ Love Goddess after all, and Jason was afraid that she’d catch a whiff of his broken heart. The Aphrodite Cabin was just as dangerous as the Ares Cabin—no matter which cabin you spoke to, it could always end with a spear to the heart one way or another. Piper took interest in him only because Reyna did. Most of the things Piper did was because of Reyna.

They made fast work of getting back together. Piper has a stubbornness, where she could focus on someone who she had a crush on rather than a prophecy. Jason could only wish for the same thing to happen to him.

“Nico,” Jason urges, and his eyebrows furrow together. “I—we don’t have to talk about Hera. But if something happened with Piper and it’s pertinent to the quest, I should know. We need each other.”

Nico’s hand falls to the wristwatch shield that Leo gifted him before their departure. With a stubborn breath, Nico finally concedes.

“I don’t know if she’s alive or not,” Nico starts, and his lips curl into a shameful frown. He gestures to the Athena Parthenos. “When Percy IMed me about Thalia and Reyna falling into Tartarus, I…I didn’t hesitate leaving.”

“You got there pretty fast.” Jason’s still puzzled at how the birds helped the son of Jupiter. Jason remembers that Bianca wasn’t fond of the eagles that brought her to Camp Halfblood. She eventually shouted at them to go away and Jason hadn’t seen them since.

Nico smiles grimly. “I left Piper in New Rome by herself. With the wolves.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Jason offers—but there’s no guarantee there. Jason didn’t stick around New Rome long enough to understand the politics—just enough to learn about his sister before doing his part in the quest to find the Doors of Death.

And Nico shakes his head immediately, implying full well that he’s as filled with doubt as Jason. “She came to me once after you left for the Doors. Piper wanted advice on how to help out in the war. “

He shakes his head, his face twisting into something that Jason doesn’t recognize. For all of the reasoning Thalia and Percy offered about Nico being distressed with Reyna gone, Jason hasn’t the slightest idea how Nico must have reacted to Reyna’s then-girlfriend.

“I asked her to keep an eye on things while I was away.” Nico rubs the tattoo on his arm uncomfortably. His eyes fall on the eagle before he pulls his hand away, pushing the sleeve down over his forearm. “But in my dreams of New Rome, things have changed. Octavian has recruited the _worse_ kinds of demigods—the ones that Thalia and Reyna would never allow in the Legion. I recognize _some_ faces.”

Nico makes a frustrated sound, his hands coiling tightly over his biceps.

“And the faces I _should_ be seeing,” he says, “they’re gone.” 

“But you mentioned that you had a dream about her,” Jason responds, and he suddenly feels Nico’s worry.

The other demigod nods reluctantly but looks sick to the face. Sicker than from the constant onslaught of snow. “I…dreamed that she was somewhere dark. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her. Octavian has anyone who doesn’t follow his way of thinking imprisoned.”

“But she’s alive,” Jason says, which doesn’t put Nico at ease.

The son of Jupiter shifts uncomfortably, the frustration still evident in his demeanor. And then suddenly—it all comes out in a long, worried tangent. “She’d be alive and _safe_ if I hadn’t left New Rome on a whim. Octavian wouldn’t be at the border of Camp Halfblood if I treated being a praetor with half the nuance that Reyna and Thalia do. I should have known he’d try to take over while I was away. I’m the _reason_ Octavian is so close—”

“Nico.” Jason’s hand flies out to touch Nico on the shoulder before the son of Jupiter can pace. Nico’s words have become a rippling rapid, the panic and frustration about Piper and the rest of the Twelfth Legion so evident that not even a dam could halt his thoughts. Jason’s hand on Nico’s shoulder does, though.

Blue eyes suddenly fly down to where Jason is touching Nico, and Jason retracts his grip quickly.

“I’m not good at this,” Nico finishes conclusively. He gestures to the tattoo on his arm, eyebrows furrowed together, then to the rest of himself. “I never _wanted_ this. Camp Jupiter may be named after my father— _whatever_ I should call him—but I’m not fit for the role of leader just because he’s half of me.”

Jason thinks back to Nico’s conclusion back in Croatia: how he would never be the model son of Jupiter. He knows a thing or two about being unable to represent his dad. Not wanting to, either. Jason knows Nico has even more qualms with Jupiter now that _Juno_ is in the picture, even if it’s vaguely so. Nico speaks about gods interacting so infrequently with their Roman children that it’s a stark contrast to the first time Jason saw Hera’s loving smile as she addressed Bianca with an endearing pet name.

“I,” Jason starts slowly, and he notices Nico’s eyes follow him, “think the way you commanded the undead Legion is plenty proof that you’re a good praetor. And that wasn’t because of who your dad is.”

“That was a team effort by the end.”

“The crew wasn’t a _team_ until you came aboard, Nico. Percy and Annabeth were feuding and all Leo wanted was to go back to his ship. You…” Jason hesitates. “You even helped Annabeth and I start talking again. I never thought I’d have her as a friend again after Luke left.”

“Percy listens when I talk,” Nico says quietly. “Frank already knew me as his senior officer. That’s different from commanding a two-hundred-person army.”

“You can’t say that for sure,” Jason protests. “From what everyone’s told me about Octavian, it sounds like he would do anything to be in a position of power anyway. You might’ve ended up wherever he’s put Piper. Or worse.”

Nico looks undeterred by his explanation. “If Piper…if _any_ of the people that Octavian has imprisoned end up dying because of the decisions that I made—I don’t—I can’t forgive myself for that.”

Jason knows a thing or two about that. He’s had to live with the choices he made ever since he stupidly asked for Hades’s blessing. “You made what you thought was the right decision for Camp Jupiter at the time, Nico. A lot more people would be dead if Annabeth hadn’t found the statue.”

The son of Jupiter lifts his head, more receptive to his words this time than before. There’s a bit of hope that blooms in Jason’s chest.

“I never liked this part about being in an army,” Nico confesses, and there’s a bitterness to his voice. “Sending people to their death.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, and he wraps one hand over the other. “But we have to trust that Piper will play to her strengths.”

Nico still looks doubtful, and Jason isn’t quite sure what the other demigod is thinking.

“You led the Greek demigods,” Nico says finally. “They have faith in you as a leader.”

Jason hesitates. He’s been at Camp Halfblood longer than anyone else with fourteen heavy beads around his neck and pulls seniority over every other camper. Except—while his father was considered one of the Three Kings, Hades remained in the shadow of Zeus’s court. If Jason were to have anything in common with the King of the Dead, he hoped he could stay in the shadows too. All of that hope was wasted when he became a leader for the war anyway. And in his eyes, not a very good one.

He’d led his fair share of Capture the Flag back in the day—but that was always for fun. Strategizing and combatting against friends after long summers of learning new moves and how to fight. At most, kids were sent to the infirmary for being injured or cursed, then joined the next game the following week.

_Actual_ war was different, and Jason wasn’t able to come back from either. Not from war, and not from Capture the Flag.

“They did,” he says finally, when he realizes he’s been quiet for too long.

“Did,” Nico echoes.

“There are good decisions and bad decisions in a war,” Jason says, and he considers the ways he could possibly elaborate. _Playing to someone’s strengths_ is how Jason ended a war, reanimating the corpses of his fallen friends. “But they’re always hard decisions.”

It ended his desire to ever want to fight again, too—war or otherwise.

“Like Luke.”

Jason’s gaze darts back to Nico, and he leans back awkwardly. “Yeah. Like Luke.”

Another silence follows, and Jason resists the urge to touch his neck. Nico still looks tense, his hands furling and unfurling with his cape. Then, he heaves a sigh, his expression ridden with guilt.

“Sorry,” Nico says miserably, and he rubs his temples. “I didn’t mean—that was mean of me.”

“Can’t be mean if you didn’t intend for it to be,” Jason assures lamely, and he straightens in his posture. “I…made a lot of rash decisions during the war.”

He swallows hard.

“I shut a lot of people out after he left,” Jason says quietly, “and by the time the last battle came, I was only relying on my own strength.”

And it was only in _death_ that Jason was willing to rely on the people he grew up with—but that never should have been the solution. Not in the way that his father’s realm and the curse made him use it. Jason thinks he’s made a lot of mistakes as a leader. He’s not sure if he’s earned the right to redeem himself from them.

“We need to rely on Piper’s strengths,” Jason says finally. He knows if he dwells too long, he’ll stay in those thoughts. “She’s bearing this burden for us so we can make it back to camp peacefully.”

At the last part of his sentence, Jason notices Nico visibly perking. Nico stares at Jason curiously.

The corner of Jason’s lips curls into a hopeful smile. “I listen.”

For some reason, that makes an impression. Nico’s own expression softens at the mention of the daughter of Bellona’s feats. He looks hesitant to say more.

Jason tries his luck. “Bianca had a hard time with it too.”

“I’m not—”

“I know you’re not, Nico,” Jason reassures. “But…this stuff about being a leader because Zeus was her dad and finding out Hera was her mom…it scared her, on top of the prophecy. She and I were the only ones that understood what that was like.”

He looks at Nico, hoping to parse out Nico’s reaction. It’s not as enraged as before—maybe even a little more understanding.

“I always thought she’d be better at this,” Nico confesses. “Being a demigod and all.”

“She spent most of her time wondering how much you would have loved being a demigod,” Jason says.

“You told me that once.”

Jason blinks.

“I listen,” Nico muses wryly.

“She had a hard time coping with it. All of it. And it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I just—” Don’t want to lose another friend from saying too much. By not saying enough. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Jason really, _really_ doesn’t want Nico to go away. If Nico leaves, it’s just more proof that everyone else leaving was his fault. No one else’s.

He waits—hopeful of what Nico will say next. Nico stares at him, either considering his words or deciding whether or not to smite him again.

There are more details about that quest that Jason didn’t care to share. Mostly because Zoe Nightshade tried to tempt twelve-year-old Bianca even then, when Jason was finally finding a friend again. Bianca was already grieving the loss of her brother. Finding out that she wasn’t even from the same century and the god that _claimed_ her also forced her here… was a lot.

Jason knows it was a lot of information for Nico, too, when he mumbled the same term of endearment for Hera that Bianca did. Bianca didn’t like to dwell on it much—she was so busy trying to detach herself from the prophecy and her life as a demigod. The times she called Hera her mother always made the goosebumps rise across Jason’s forearms.

“Let’s just focus on this Piper debacle,” Nico says finally, after a long period of silence. He paces, evidently back to having trouble looking Jason in the eye.

Jason wants to say that Piper will be okay—but he can’t. He thought Beckendorf was going to be okay. That Michael and Lee were going to be okay. But—after having a conversation so recently with his dad, Jason can only think of one thing.

“We can’t dwell on what could be. We need to be realistic and focus on minimizing the body count.” Jason doesn’t even like the words as they come out of his mouth. “Even then…some deaths are unavoidable. No matter how hard we try, the Fates will make sure they happen.”

It’s a hard lesson that Jason learned at a young age. For all that he could summon ghosts and skeletons—once the thread was snipped, there was no going back. There’s finality in life, where everyone would eventually end up at the foot of his father’s throne. Some, sooner than others. And Jason learned that the people he loved had just as much of a chance of dying as the ones he hated.

In the eyes of death, it’s not a _good_ lesson, or a _bad_ lesson. It’s just a hard one.

“Are you kidding me?” Nico asks angrily, and Jason winces. “Your solution is to _let_ people die?”

“No,” Jason says quickly, “I’m not saying—”

“You _just_ said that some deaths are unavoidable,” Nico snaps. “You’re telling me that you think that her life is worth laying on the line?”

“I didn’t—”

“Save it. How can you say to _trust_ Piper and throw her life way in the same breath?” Nico seethes, and the title comes out in an angry, accusing tone. “I’m not going to make the same mistake you did and let my friends get slaughtered on the battlefield!”

Silence.

Jason’s throat goes dry. The spot behind Jason’s neck tingles. His chest aches. The words feel like a knife gutting him—but worst of all, there’s no curse to shield him. Jason knows the words are true.

Worst of all though, Nico’s scowl suddenly fades and he presses a hand to his face. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“No, uh,” Jason says, and he swallows the painful lump at the back of his throat. His eyes fall from Nico’s face, and he feels more awkward—moreso now than when Nico mentioned Luke. “You’re right. What happened back then was a mistake.”

All of it was a terrible mistake.

He waits, to see if Nico is going to snap again. But all that meets Jason’s ears is silence, and suddenly he can’t be humored to find the right words.

“I think Uncle Gleeson is finished with food,” Jason says finally. “Let’s…let’s put a pause on this for now.”

Again, it takes a moment for Nico to respond. But finally, he hears Nico respond. “Okay.”

*

They arrive at the outskirts of Transylvania around sunset. The weather is much warmer than Odesa or Moscow—and Nico doesn’t seem to mind either. Jason catches the breeze against his forehead as they surface from the shadows, and he’s already hungry again.

“We need to restock on food,” Uncle Gleeson reports. He dumps the contents of empty cans and food wrappers from one of the backpacks.

“I could have sworn we grabbed some enchanted plates before we left the ship,” Jason says. He starts looking at the lush greenery in the outskirts of the city and begins to collect firewood.

“They got broken,” Nico explains.

“They did?” Jason blinks.

“I threw them at some myrmekes before we left Albania.”

All three of them grimace at the same time. Uncle Gleeson looks hurt.

“Right,” Jason says. They’ve traveled through so many cities and countries in the last couple of days that it’s hard to keep track of where they’ve been. Albania though—they swore to never speak of that again. If they were on better terms, Jason could almost laugh. Nico and he actually make eye contact with each other.

Then, Nico pulls his gaze away, the amusement having dissipated.

“Let’s restock and then get going,” Jason suggests—and he watches Nico eying him. “If…that’s not a bad plan?”

“It’s…not,” Nico agrees.

Jason’s gaze lingers for a second. Nico looks like he wants to say something but stops himself before he can. He nearly jumps out of his thoughts as Uncle Gleeson wedges himself between them.

“I want to go into town!” Uncle Gleeson declares. “You cupcakes had a terrible haul the last time you went together.”

Funnily enough, Jason thinks the old satyr is talking about food wrappers more than he’s talking about the contents. He watches Nico shift uncomfortably on his feet and feels awkward himself. “I guess that means you and I are staying behind—?”

“No,” Nico says swiftly, and he grabs at his sword. “I’ll go with Coach to keep him out of trouble. Jason, you…stay put here.”

“You sure?” Jason asks quietly.

To his surprise, Nico gives him a look, like— _Do you trust this satyr not to cause **another** international incident?_—and on better terms, Jason probably would have laughed.

“Okay,” Jason agrees.

He watches as Nico inspects his own sword, hazy hands across the hilt.

“Stay safe,” Nico urges gently. “Okay?”

Jason offers the tiniest smile, the edge of his lip aching, and he nods in agreement. “Okay.”

It’s proof that Nico isn’t _that_ mad at him.

About an hour later—

_“Jason._ ”

—Jason startles to a cloud behind him. He whirls around at the sound of Nico’s voice—and is met with the sight of a foggy Nico. At first, Jason thinks Nico’s officially turned into a cloud—then he notices the faint sheen of a rainbow against the blue hue of Nico’s eyes—and the look of worry on Nico’s face.

“Nico,” Jason greets. “Hi. Where’s Uncle Gleeson?”

The question explains the look of dismay on Nico’s face, and Jason’s stomach suddenly drops with worry. _“Missing._ ”

It takes Jason five minutes, tops, to find Nico. He appears in an alleyway, pushing through Nico’s shadow, and taps the son of Jupiter on the shoulder. Nico jumps, hand immediately flying to his sword—and whirls around with the same surprise Jason held when the Iris Message reached him.

“ _Gods_ ,” Nico mutters, and he slowly untenses. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry. I might’ve jumped the gun a little.” Jason tries to smile sheepishly, but the worry for his uncle outweighs his apology. Nico didn’t explain much before Jason came running.

“And the statue?”

“Unguarded,” Jason professes. “So we better find him quickly.”

He expects Nico to protest—getting the Athena Parthenos was such a pain on its own—but Nico nods. “We were trying to find a drugstore. Coach went to talk to some lady—and when I turned around, he was gone.”

“Gotcha.” Jason makes a face. He starts walking out of the alleyway with Nico at his heels. “Uncle Gleeson is always doing stuff on his own. It’s hard to say where he would have gone.”

“How do you intend on finding him?” Nico asks. He pauses and stares up at Jason skeptically. “How did you find _me_?”

“I used your soul.”

The footsteps behind Jason halt—and he realizes Nico has stopped trailing him. He reruns the intensity of his own words through his head, then turns around to Nico’s arched eyebrow.

“It’s like the other side of having a death sense,” Jason says slowly. “I can sense when people die, so I can sense when they’re alive, too. You could probably be on the other side of Romania and I could find you.”

“Ah,” Nico says. “Handy.”

“I thought you’d know, with Thalia,” Jason points out, while he looks around their general surroundings. There are ample people out at this time of day—plenty around just walking around for the evening. Much like Odesa and Pripyat, Jason isn’t too familiar with his surroundings. “Since she holds those concerts with the Lares.” 

“She has a handle on the _other_ part of Pluto’s dominion. The riches. She’s used some of those Underworldly powers before, but…” Nico trials off. “She’s always been more comfortable with the riches. She didn’t even know how to shadowtravel until you came around.”

“I don’t have the first clue what to do with all that money,” Jason offers tiredly. He thinks back to what Hades said about his mother and how Beryl managed to have both aspects of the King of the Underworld fall in love with her. “The _dead_ part though—that should be my area of expertise.”

_Should_ being the key word. Jason decides not to mention how the first time he tried to summon a soul—Nico’s soul in the heart of Las Vegas—didn’t turn out well. He offered Taco Bell with one hand, held Bianca’s in the other, and hoped for the best.

And when that didn’t work at the tender age of twelve, Jason questioned if he’d gone too long rejecting his lineage to _ever_ use his father’s domain.

“Yeah well, luckily for me, my dad stays a jerk no matter _what_ form he takes,” Nico grumbles. He falls quiet. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I know you’ve had a hard time coping with all of that. After Luke, I mean. It wasn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jason says. “I just really want to find my uncle.”

It’s something they can agree on, Jason thinks. How important family is. Nico may not agree with everything that he said earlier—but Jason taking off to find Uncle Gleeson mimics Nico taking off for Thalia and Reyna’s sake. He just hopes they don’t pay the price for it by leaving the statue unguarded. Or losing his uncle.

Which—Jason could smack himself for. Losing _hope_ for anything is almost as bad as losing his uncle. He owes Piper _and_ Nico an apology, even if the former doesn’t know it yet.

Nico looks like he wants to say more, but the anxiousness must show on Jason’s face. They start walking around town.

Transylvania is littered with ghosts. Unlike the _ghost town_ Pripyat, Jason sees apparitions in costumes, like they’re going to a festival. Jason can see tourists getting disoriented as they pass through the spirits. The laughter of the phantoms is like a chitter in Jason’s ears. They’re celebrated here, instead of trapped without coinage to pass to his father’s realm.

The strange part is that the tour groups primarily seem like women. Jason wonders how many bride-to-bes suddenly wanted to celebrate their bachelorette parties at one of the most Halloween-esque towns in the world.

“Bram Stroker really had fun with this one, didn’t he?” Nico mutters.

“Bram who?”

“Stroker,” Nico finishes. “Dracula’s author.” 

“Oh,” Jason says, and he tries not to show his discomfort show. “That author.”

“My mom used to read it to us as a bedtime story,” Nico explains. After a beat, he adds, “though you probably already knew that.”

“I didn’t actually,” Jason says. To the corner of his eye, he sees the somber expression on Nico’s face and—this time, decides not to pursue that route.

Instead, Jason walks up to a ghost and starts asking for information. It’s rough at first—Jason pulls a tootsie pop out of his pocket and requests the ghost speak English. With a thick Romani accent, the ghost puts a name to the direction that Jason had started walking towards. And Jason doesn’t like it.

Bran Castle.

“He said Bran Castle was about two hours out from here,” Jason explains after he dismisses the ghost. “By car.”

Nico swears under his breath, and the frustration continues to grow across his face. “Me fumbling around trying to find him just gave them a head start. Whoever _them_ is.”

Jason has a guess on _who_ took Uncle Gleeson. And they’re definitely not his favorite kind of monster. “We can go by his soul. If I shadowtravel us en route, we can cut them off.”

“If we do that, we risk leaving the statue unguarded for _too long_ ,” Nico points out. “We need it for Piper and the others. Monsters are already attracted to it. Percy said Arachne had it hidden in the catacombs of Rome for centuries and others still came for it. If we lose the statue—”

“I know,” Jason agrees, and he rubs his forehead. “We can take it with us. I—we can hide it. Somehow.”

“ _Somehow_?” Nico echoes. “It’ll stick out like a _sore thumb._ ”

“I know,” Jason says again, and he bites back a frustrated sigh. “I’ll follow your lead, Nico.”

“You’re leaving this to _me_?”

“We’re just going to argue back and forth about this until one of us wins out, and Uncle Gleeson’s captor is getting further away. We can go after him now, or we can leave and just focus on getting the statue to Camp Halfblood. For Piper and the rest of your missing friends.” Jason’s voice breaks at the second suggestion, but he keeps his gaze steady on Nico. “I trust whatever decision you make.”

Despite all of the friction between them, Jason’s words still ring true. Those blue eyes widen at his sudden declaration, but Jason’s had too many conversations over a ping pong table that ended poorly due to his own resolve. Over Luke’s fate being tied to Kronos’s. His own fickleness cost him both his only love and his closest friend. Jason knows he can’t afford to dwell over these decisions during war—not with so many lives at stake.

“We need each other,” Jason says. “So I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

Nico curses under his breath again, the look of discomfort evident in his eyes. He swivels on his foot, one hand on the hilt of his sword, and stares at the cobblestone path.

He’s is silent for at least a solid minute. The son of Jupiter so still that a bird perches on his shoulder like a statue—and another flutters across from him. Jason can hardly tell he’s is breathing.

And, Jason can’t help but squirm. “Nico, we don’t really have a lot of time here—”

Finally, Nico whirls back around. The swiftness of his movement should deter the birds—but they don’t. For the first time in days, Nico’s bright blue eyes look directly into Jason’s. There’s a soft groan—followed by: “I have an idea.”


	10. charmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason meets his gaze when Nico looks up.
> 
> “Jason—what are you—”
> 
> Jason punts him in the face.
> 
> Nico falls backwards, a surge of pain suddenly jolting through his forehead. He’s taken aback—if there was any doubt that Jason could hit hard, it’s gone. Nico lands on the ground, back first while the stars suddenly sprout in the corners of his eyes.
> 
> “Girls,” an empousa says—and Nico tries to focus on the source of the voice. There’s one empousa—a little taller than the rest, with a bronze leg that holds more decorations. She smirks as her fellow monsters regroup around her. “I found _Luke’s_ Jason.”

“What’s the story behind the two of you?”

“What?”

“You and Coach Hedge,” Nico clarifies. “You said that you were raised by satyrs.”

They settle on a forested road near the path to Bran Castle. Jason can’t pinpoint the exact location Uncle Gleeson is—but he knows they’re close. He has the gladius Percy gave him strapped to his belt, ready to wield and strike when Uncle Gleeson’s captor come close.

The pathways to Bran Castle are filled with hills and valleys. Off in the distance, Jason can see the white columns of the castle, topped with rich red roofing. He thinks that Annabeth would enjoy the architecture of this place—and Thalia would probably enjoy the lore. The thought of his oldest friend and his big sister warm his heart—but then his stomach sours as he remembers what brought them here.

“When Alecto brought me to camp, Chiron wouldn’t let her in,” Jason explains. “Most of the demigods at Camp Halfblood are just kids. Luke…he was our oldest head counsellor before he left. Twenty. But most kids come to a summer camp to enjoy the _summer._ Not babysit a two-year-old.”

“What about the adults at Camp Halfblood?”

“They didn’t want to deal with me.” The corner of Jason’s lip twitches into a tired smile. “Chiron…I told you, he taught me when he was around, but he usually spent the school year trying to find new demigods in schools, too. Mr. D—”

“Who?”

“Dionysus, the God of Wine and Camp Halfblood’s director.” Jason has spent so long addressing Mr. D by his mortal nickname that the Greek name almost sounds weird on his tongue. “He already had his own mortal kids who were being taken care of by their mom. He didn’t want to take care of Hades’s son, so he let the satyrs do it.”

Unlike Uncle Gleeson, most satyrs weren’t the fighting kind. They were _protectors_ and _seekers_ of new demigods. Jason doesn’t remember _a lot_ from when he was two—but he remembers the anxiousness that bubbled in his stomach when Alecto begrudgingly handed him off to Chiron. She and her sisters spent so long trying to get him to Camp Halfblood, hissing sweet melodies in his ears to help him fall asleep—and suddenly the new support system he’d grown to love was being ripped away.

“Uncle Gleeson’s not really my uncle.”

“I’ve gathered,” Nico says.

“But the satyrs are the only kind at camp who aren’t nervous around me. To some degree,” Jason explains. “They go to schools and try to find new demigods to bring back. My brother, Grover—also a satyr—he says he’s been changing my diapers too long to be scared. I’ve wet my pants long before my powers would make him wet his.”

At the mention of that, Nico actually snorts.

“The satyrs took care of me,” Jason says quietly. “Uncle Gleeson was in and out recruiting demigods, too, but they always kept tabs on me. They were the first family I had at Camp Halfblood.”

“Fauns are freeloaders at Camp Jupiter,” Nico says. “Don’t be surprised if you end up in a ditch somewhere after helping someone out.”

“Not the satyrs. The ones at Camp Halfblood are the kindest monsters I’ve ever met.”

Nico falls quiet upon hearing that. “That’s important to you. Good and bad monsters.”

“Most of them reside in the Underworld,” Jason says. “I’m not much for a son of Hades, but I never would have made it to Camp Halfblood without the monsters he sent my way.”

It’s hard to say for sure—Nico’s gaze falls back onto him at the back half of his statement. There isn’t a terseness in his eyes—or the worry from before. He studies Jason inquisitively with the new inklet of information. “Reyna mentioned campers whose parents don’t have their own cabin end up in the Merc—the Hermes Cabin.”

“The god of travelers. Campers pray and hope he’ll lead them to their new family.”

“But you’ve been there since you were two.”

“You’re looking at the longest camper to have ever lived at Camp Halfblood—and in the Hermes Cabin.” Even that wasn’t by choice. Jason has vivid memories growing up with the dryads and the satyrs living in the forest. He grew comfortable around them because in a way, they reminded him of the Furies: loving with the best intent at heart. Satyrs recruited all demigods—even if the cabins at camp didn’t accomdate for every godly parent. “I galloped until I was five.”

“You’re _joking._ ”

“The only thing they never got me to do was eat a tin can. I already have _one_ scar on my lip.” Out of instinct, Jason thumbs his mouth. When he was little, he used to stare at the mirror and wonder where it came from. The satyrs told him it was likely a birthmark—but Luke used to call it a _sick battle wound._

After Luke came back from the sole quest for Hermes, he was more somber. More distant. There was one instance when young Jason wondered if crawling into Luke’s bed was still okay. That night, the dismal expression broke and the warmth returned to Luke’s demeanor, though never again reaching his wounded eyes. Jason’s favorite person had sweetly murmured, _We match now._

Jason pushes Luke out of his mind—along with all the dreams that have accompanied him as of late. He’s not sure what to think of them—or the voice that keeps needling his mind to wake him up. It _sounds_ like Bianca…

But definitely not a Bianca from a past memory. And that makes every bad dream even worse.

“So you’ve lived at Camp Halfblood for most of your life, saved Olympus,” Nico starts, “and you don’t even have a cabin to yourself.”

“My dad isn’t one of the Twelve Olympians.”

“And your camp director is the _God of Wine._ ”

“It’s his punishment for sleeping with the wrong nymph. One of your—one of Zeus’s.” Jason catches himself, knowing better than to agitate the other demigod. From the corner of his eye, he sees Nico’s eyes raise—but they don’t look quite as frustrated.

“Of course,” Nico mutters. “And he let a bunch of satyrs raise you.”

“It’s just the way things are, Nico. Demigod way of life and all.” Jason had grown used to the way camp operated long before he even understood what he was. That he was supposed to be _different_ compared to other mortals.

He’d grown so used to being taken care of in the forest surrounded by peaceful monsters. Jason decides not to mention what else bothered him—that when he turned five, the campers decided it was time to transition him into the Hermes Cabin and learn how to fight. _Alecto_ took him to Camp Halfblood. _Mr. D_ told the satyrs to take care of him. And the campers of Camp Halfblood— _they_ decided it was time for him to be more human.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?”

Bianca thought about leaving every waking second. She wanted to escape the prophecy in any way possible—hand-in-hand with Jason. Often more times than not, she decided against it. They had family in each other when the rest of Camp Halfblood left at the end of the summer. And as mixed feelings as Jason had about his upbringing, the satyrs were kind. The campers were well-intentioned. He’s never going to have the stomach for vengeance, no matter how Kronos and Luke tried to water the seed of hate in his head.

And even when Bianca decided to build a new family with the Huntresses, Jason would only ever have Camp Halfblood.

“I feel him getting closer,” Jason says instead. The sky is streaked with stars. Jason feels his senses heightening as the shadows regain their depth in the evening.

Among the hilly roads, Jason catches sight of a Volkswagen Beetle—and he _knows_ Uncle Gleeson is in there. His hand coils into a fist around the hilt of the gladius and his chest tightens, ready for combat.

A feeling of nausea tugs at his heart.

Jason sees a flash of a battlefield—of red, of blood, of _dead—_

—and his hand unfurls from the sword.

“Jason.” Nico touches his shoulder—the first willing gesture from the son of Jupiter in days. “Let’s go.”

“I—” Jason forces the thought out of his mind as best he can. Before Nico can notice. “Alright.”

The shadows coil at Jason’s feet. Nico stares at him briefly before ascending into the air.

As they separate—they leave the Athena Parthenos behind them, unguarded by demigods.

*

Jason’s not sure how many people have ever tried to shadowtravel under a moving vehicle before. Unless parked, the Volkswagen Beetle is in perpetual motion—and when Jason sticks his head out of the shadows, his entire body is also moving at a nauseating fifty-five miles an hour, zigzagging between the road and patches of grass. There’s music blasting from the car—so on top of being ricochet beneath the moving shadow of a car, Jason thinks he might die with _WAP_ being the last thing he ever hears.

He lifts the gladius, hand so tight around the hilt of the sword that his knuckles blanch white—and then jams the blade into the nearest tire.

The tire _bursts_ with air, and Jason quickly ducks his head before a rear wheel can run straight into the back of his head.

He shadowtravels behind a large rock—watching as the car spins out of control and _hearing_ the sounds of feminine howls. It comes to a screeching halt, tilting ever-so violently on its two good left wheels before landing with an alarming plop.

There’s a lot of cursing over Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion. Enough of a distraction for Nico to descend from a cluster of clouds and land on the car stealthily. Blue eyes make contact with Jason’s for a moment, and his heart hiccups.

_“Like, what the fuck was that?!”_

_“Get your fat ass out of the car and check!”_

The music comes to a screeching halt. The passenger’s side opens quickly—revealing a beautiful teenaged girl that makes Jason’s stomach twist in knots. Nico makes quick work of her. He stabs her in the back so quickly that Jason would’ve missed it if he blinked—and she disintegrates into dust with a sickening scream.

Then Nico dives into the car—Jason can see it shaking. Electricity crackles from the windows. The backseat doors suddenly open—and at least four more girls spill out of the backseat. The driver’s side opens, another girl thrown across the grassy fields—and Nico peers out the open side.

He looks around, confused.

Uncle Gleeson isn’t anywhere to be found.

But he’s there. Jason can _feel_ his uncle.

One of the pretty girls drives Nico’s head into a car window— _SLAM—_ and the sound is enough to make Jason flinch. He stifles a cry of the other demigod’s name—he’s had to, every time they’ve faced a bad monster. Jason learned very quickly that Nico can fend for himself. He expects nothing less from the son of the King and Queen of the Heavens.

Off in the distance, Jason sees Nico’s legion training kick in. After all—for all of the insistence that Nico isn’t a good praetor, he’s one hell of a fighter. He leans back into the weight of the girl holding him, kicks off from the car door, then throws her off of him.

Nico cocks his head one last time in Jason’s direction—and they both acknowledge each other within the blink of an eye. Then he flies into the air, darting in the opposite direction.

“ _GET HIM_!” howls one of the girls. They charge after him, feet clamping into grass and echoing in the distance.

Jason shadowtravels back to the car. He _knows_ Uncle Gleeson’s still in the Volkswagen. He can _sense_ it.

The steering wheel is on the other side of the car. Jason sticks his head through the shattered window—only to be greeted with the pungent scent of greasy fast food and too much perfume. In the darkness, he can tell the interior is hot pink.

His eyes travel the length of the car—then he remembers the one place that Nico didn’t have a chance to check before getting rammed into the car.

“The trunk,” he whispers. _Duh._

Jason finds the lever beneath cheeseburger wrappers underneath the front seat. He’s not too familiar with cars in general—Camp Halfblood only had two vans for the winter solstice, when the scanty number of demigods could take a field trip to Olympus—and this vehicle is much newer. The front of the car pops open and Jason thinks he’s pulled the wrong switch until hears— _“MMMMMPHHHH!”_

Sure enough, Uncle Gleeson is hogtied in the front trunk of the car and stifled with a bright pink bandana. Jason can’t think of anything more offensive for a goat. Uncle Gleeson’s eyes widen with acknowledgement the moment he sees Jason, and Jason’s entire body floods with relief.

“What trouble did you get into this time, Uncle Gleeson?” Jason unknots the bandana, Uncle Gleeson screaming every second as he does so as the old satyr grows redder in the face.

“’BOUT TIME YOU GOT HERE!” Uncle Gleeson screams. “I taught you to save kidnappees better than that, Grace!”

_Teaching_ and _getting kidnapped a time before_ are two different concepts, but Jason decides not to mention it. “Sorry, Uncle Gleeson. Let’s get you out of here.”

He moves to slash his sword through the ropes—

“I’d stop while I was ahead, if I were you.”

—and doesn’t get the chance.

Butterflies flutter in Jason’s stomach. His head grows dizzy, and the sword shakes in his hand.

The charmspeak forces Jason to a stop.

There’s purring behind him. Jason’s breath catches—and he suddenly his palms are sweaty and his heart is hammering.

“Kid,” Uncle Gleeson warns. “We need to get out of—”

“Zip it, old man,” the empousa hisses—and with a violent jerk, Uncle Gleeson’s mouth purses together and he looks as dazed as Jason feels. A perfectly manicured claw suddenly climb up Jason’s bicep—and a nail curls under the leather lace of Jason’s necklace. “ _Ohmigods_.”

Jason swallows hard, his entire body still wavering at the sound of her voice.

“You’re _Luke’s_ Jason, aren’t you?”

*

Nico thinks he prefers _Dracula_ and _Vlad the Impaler_ how his mother told the story.

The empousai are _much_ more annoying. Nico counted six when he landed on the car. Jason had done a good job stalling the vehicle for the first phase of their plan—Nico just needs to live long enough so they can carry on with the second.

Off in the distance, he can see the silhouette of Jason working through the bones of the car, searching for Coach Hedge in the facets where he’s failed. Four empousai are still hot on Nico’s trail. At first—he would have thought nothing of six teenaged girls driving at night.

But—six teenaged girls, each sprouting a bronze metal leg and _fangs_ are a little more suspicious.

“Get _down_ here, handsome!” coos one of the empousa. “Or do you want me to join _you_?”

“Sorry,” Nico shouts back, “you’re not my type!”

The thing about empousai was: they couldn’t _fly_ or turn into _bats_ like vampires—but they were resourceful. Nico is feet in the air, blasting winds at empousai as they try to get close of him. He knocks one away with a blast of cold air—but misses another—

“ _AGH!”_ he shouts.

_—_ who gets catapulted into the air by one of her fellow monstresses. One of the empousa launches into him—and even with absolute focus, Nico wouldn’t be able to keep himself propelled in the air. The girl digs her claws between the slivers of Nico’s armor and cuts up his arm. He stumbles to catch himself in the air, spiraling as she sews himself into his back. The impact causes Nico’s sword to go flying. He already has a headache from when one of the slammed his head into a car door.

“Now,” she murmurs in a way that makes Nico’s skin crawl—far too close to Nico’s neck for comfort—“what makes you think you’re _immune_ to my words?”

“I told you,” Nico insists, “you’re not my type!”

“I’m _everyone’s_ type!” she shrieks.

Clearly there isn’t going to be any reasoning with her. With an exasperated sigh (and a wriggling not-vampire climbing him) Nico makes the sky swell with rain clouds. He grits his teeth for a moment—feeling the burn in his hands—but right now he’s weaponless.

The air changes. Storm clouds swirl above, and Nico feels the first prick of rain drops against his forehead.

Lightning streaks through the sky, engulfing them with a blinding light—and Nico hears the high-pitched scream of the empousai disintegrating. The light makes him nauseous these days—too much power surging through him while they remain on a northern route. He can _feel_ the bolt of energy crash into the ground, causing the rest of the empousai to scramble.

His cape, untattered by the crisp storm, smells like toasted not-vampire.

Nico’s gaze locks on his sword down below as the tall grass bristles with the rainstorm. It gleans gold even in darkness—and he’s quick to soar to it.

He goes to pick up his gladius—and a shoe slams straight into the flat side of his blade.

Jason meets his gaze when Nico looks up.

“Jason—what are you—”

Jason punts him in the face.

Nico falls backwards, a surge of pain suddenly jolting through his forehead. He’s taken aback—if there was any doubt that Jason could hit _hard_ , it’s gone. Nico lands on the ground, back first while the stars suddenly sprout in the corners of his eyes.

_“Girls_ ,” an empousa says—and Nico tries to focus on the source of the voice. There’s one empousa—a little taller than the rest, with a bronze leg that holds more decorations. She smirks as her fellow monsters regroup around her. “I found _Luke’s_ Jason.”

Nico’s blood runs cold. He’s yet to hear the name Luke in a _good_ context—not since the sweet way Jason whispered that name back in Split. The memories that followed made him nauseous.

Here, listening to _Luke’s_ _Jason_ makes his skin crawl. He gathers his bearings quickly.

“You knew that guy?” Nico asks, the ire heavy in his voice.

“Oh,” she gushes. She swings Coach Hedge effortlessly over her shoulder. Nico’s never known the old goat to be quiet—but catches a glance of Coach Hedge’s muted face and grimaces. “He was a _handsome_ leader. He had _such_ brooding eyes.”

“ _Gaea_ ,” oozes another empousai, “and that _dragon scar!_ So hot!”

He thinks he sees Jason twitch—but then the head empousa strokes his shoulder tenderly.

“Jason,” Nico warns, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re going to kill the little bird over here,” the head empousa instructs—and Jason’s eyes glaze over again, “and then you’re going to take us to the Athena Parthenos. Got it, babe?”

“Got it,” Jason mumbles—and it comes out soft and dazed. The golden gladius looks unnatural, glowing with a white sheen against Jason’s already pale skin. He takes a stance, his fist firm around the hilt of his sword.

The air suddenly changes—cold and brisk as though they never left Moscow. The hairs on Nico’s arms suddenly rise, goosebumps erecting against the flesh of his skin, and a freezing shiver spikes through him.

Nico makes the mistake of blinking—

\--and suddenly Jason’s other hand is clawing the front of his shirt. Nico’s lifted into the air with sickening ease.

“ _Jason!_ ” Nico wheezes. He’s swinging in Jason’s grasp—and in the reflection of dark eyes, he can see his own disgruntled face. Jason is so fast that Nico didn’t even _see_ him move.

He’s never seen Jason fight before. Not even on the Argo II. But now, he can feel the hum of energy coursing through Jason like he can feel Percy’s energy change when the son of Neptune draws the tides, or when Thalia makes the earth tremble with cursed riches.

Jason may not fight, but he’s _strong._

“Like _,”_ says one of the empousa, “of _all_ people to see again! _Luke’s_ Jason!”

At the mention of Luke again, Nico thinks he sees Jason’s demeanor waver—even if it’s just for a moment. Jason’s grip on his shirt loosens—enough for Nico to latch both hands around the other demigod’s wrist and summon a fistful of electricity.

_ZZZZ!_

The lightning is enough to blind Jason. Nico learned a long time ago how to defend himself against bigger opponents. Jason isn’t a behemoth by any means—but he’s at least as tall as Percy, and his reflexes are just as good. Jason’s grip loosens considerably, eyes clenching shut from the flash of light—and Nico kicks himself out of Jason’s grip.

His hands _burn. Gods._

“Is there, like, anything hotter than two boys _fighting_?” gushes another empousa.

This isn’t much a fight—and Nico’s getting agitated at becoming a sideshow for a gaggling group of vampires. He blasts a gust of air in front of Jason’s face in order to increase the distance in front of him—and forces the wave to push the empousai away. There’s a screech as the monstresses disperse—and Nico scrambles to gather his sword from the ground.

He has just enough time to whirl back around to summon the shield Leo made for him. Jason slams his sword against the shield. The _strike_ sends a vibration through Nico’s bones, and he chokes on his breath. Before he can recover, Jason is already switching hands with his blade, the movement so fluid that Nico almost doesn’t see it—

Then Jason swiftly slams an elbow in Nico’s chest, and the other demigod stumbles backwards.

“Agile one, isn’t he?” coos the head empousa. “Luke knew how powerful his Jason could be. They spent _all_ of their time training together. You won’t meet anyone deadlier than Jason Grace. After all—” She hums cruelly, and the very sound makes Nico’s skin crawl. “—in the end, you delivered the final blow, didn’t you, babe?”

Every ounce of Nico wants to tell the empousa to shut up—after all—it wasn’t too long ago that he ran his own mouth and hurt Jason’s feelings. But he’s too busy watching Jason’s gaze narrow with a wolfish stare that would make Lupa proud. He sees his own struggling face in the hue of Jason’s irises, and his hands are pounding.

Nico doesn’t have another lightning bolt under his sleeve. Striking the first empousa with a bolt of lightning from the sky was probably too flashy.

He shudders as he hears Jason snarl—but he also knows each mention of Luke’s name is drawing Jason’s focus even more than the charmspeak is.

“Jason,” Nico begs, “snap out of it. I know you’re better than this.”

“Don’t listen to him,” gushes one of the other empousa.

“You’re doing _such_ a good job, handsome,” chorales another empousa.

“ _Shut_ _up_ ,” Nico snaps.

Every time Jason raises his sword, Nico meets it with his own. They clack against one another, sending a jolting ache through Nico’s wrist, and he hisses in pain. Nico bobs and weaves—he’s nimble himself, but somehow Jason Grace—who Nico has only seen lift a blade to give Ivan the Giant a pedicure—is faster. Nico blocks with his shield as the sword comes towards him again. He can only think about just how much Percy would _love_ to fight Jason right now.

(What was the joke? Jason could squat _five_ of him?)

“You’re doing _such_ a good job, babe,” purrs the head empousa. “Luke would be so proud.”

“Jason!” Nico shouts. “Stop listening to her!”

Unfortunately, Nico isn’t nearly as charming as a seductive _monstress._ Jason’s demeanor is so chilling and cruel that for the first time, Nico’s reminded of Thalia on the battlefield. Except this is worse. Nico’s tried lightning and the winds—while Jason’s done nothing more than occasionally switch the blade between his hands.

He's disarmed in seconds.

Nico’s sword goes skittering in the opposite direction, Jason’s actions too sprightly to see. His heart pounds in his chest. Nico wields his shield as Jason strikes with a sword again—and this time, the moment it makes impact, Nico lets a crackle of electricity burst through his shield. The current courses through his shield into Jason’s gladius with a crackling light, and Jason stumbles backwards, disoriented.

He lunges in the opposite direction before the nausea can settle in his stomach. Nico reaches for his sword, which lays at arm’s reach—

“ _GRAB HIM!”_

_“AGH_!”

–and gets cut off, as Jason grabs him by the ankle and rams the sword into his thigh.

A flash of white bursts through the corner of Nico’s eyes, and he screams. He lands face first into wet dirt and searing pain _burns_ through leg. For all the armor shielding him, all he sees is the gladius wedged into the meat of his thigh. He chokes on the pain, eyes blurring. Jason comes back into focus—expression stern and eyes narrowed at him with a dazed malice.

_Gods_ , his leg _hurts._ Nico’s hands _burn._ The winds howl around them in no particular direction and rain pelts them—but the vivacity of the storm fades as Nico’s determination to defend himself is stunned.

He chokes on another breath, watching as the head empousa slink beside Jason.

“Luke would be so proud of you, babe,” she gushes. “Now _kill_ him.”

Nico shudders as Jason’s eyes lock onto him. There’s not one ounce of kindness in those irises—and Nico scrambles for an idea to get out of here. He’s too weak to fly. Too tired to summon another bolt of lightning. The storm is dwindling with his stamina, and suddenly his leg feels numb and cold.

He's helpless.

Jason bends over Nico effortlessly, and Nico cries out in pain as the other demigod yanks the sword out of his leg.

Then Jason freezes.

“Nico,” he whispers—which is the first coherent sound he’s uttered since being under the empousa’s control. The very tenor of his name makes Nico shudder. “You’re bleeding.”

Nico looks down, his hands shaky as he attempts to prop himself. Sure enough, red blooms around the place Jason stabbed him. His entire leg is a cold burn, punctured by the sword—and his throat stings. Nico can’t even curl his toes without his leg hurting.

“What are you _doing_ , babe?” the empousa whines. “I said _finish_ him.”

Jason is shaking.

“Don’t listen to her,” Nico warns—and he watches as Jason’s face blanches even paler than before.

“I—” Jason’s breath staggers—and his hands shake. This Jason doesn’t hold half the ferocity of the one who stabbed Nico moments ago. The sword looks foreign again between his fingers.

And the head empousa knows it. She’s vicious as she shouts: “ _FINISH HIM!”_

There’s enough time to catch a breath. Nico stretches out and grabs his gladius while the others are distracted—and then slams the sword into his shield.

A loud, thunderous _BOOM_ deafens the hilltop and cancels out any opportunity for charmspeak. His call of thunder echoes into the sky, and the clouds answer thrice over. The head empousa shrieks in pain and drops Coach Hedge, while her group clamps hands over their ears.

“ _ATTABOY DI ANGELO!”_ Coach Hedge suddenly shouts—and despite being hogtied, he clamps his teeth around one of the empousa’s ankles.

“ _AGH!”_ she shrieks, and she goes to kick the old satyr in the face. “You _stupid_ goat!”

“Go ahead! Give me the other ankle! I _bite_ , you shedevil!” Coach Hedge clacks his teeth with emphasis.

“Jason—look at me,” Nico says quickly, “we need to get out of here.”

Charcoal eyes look frazzled—evidently still locked on the way that red is leaking out of Nico’s legs. Even Nico’s own movements feel brittle, between propping himself against the ground and trying to get the other demigod’s attention. Nico’s clothes are drenched. The armor feels heavy on his body. Coach Gleeson is wriggling on the ground, ready to bite another ankle while the other empousa are trying to regather their thoughts.

“ _DON’T JUST STAND THERE!”_ hisses one of the empousa, just a tad too loudly. “ _GET HIM!”_

Luckily Jason doesn’t hear the charmspeak—but he doesn’t hear Nico’s voice, either. Nico reaches out and chokes back a cry as a sharp pain through his leg. He snatches Jason by the hand.

“ _JASON!”_ Nico shouts, despite himself—but the touch of his hand against Jason’s is enough to snap the other demigod out of his stupor. Dark, oily eyes look up to the bleary blue—just as the empousai charge at them with blistering speed.

Nico cups his mouth towards the sky and makes a bird call.

“Like, _shut up_!” shouts another empousa. “Stop making noise over there, or I’ll rip your pretty little throat out, _capeesh?”_

Out from nowhere, dozens upon dozens of birds erupt from a hilltop, carrying the Athena Parthenos between their talons by the taut rope knotted together so seamlessly by the son of Hades and daughter of Athena.

And—where there aren’t birds carrying the statue, there are thrice as many birds that shroud moonlight. It forces every pretty girl to halt in place.

“ _THE STATUE!”_ shrieks the head empousa. “Girls, get ready to launch—”

“ _UCCELLI!”_ Nico hollers at the top of his lungs. “ _SPARARE!”_

It’s the one thing he can command without exhausting himself much further. Crystal clear rain suddenly turns white beneath the cloud of birds—and a storm of avian poop suddenly launches down towards them in a deadly storm.

The empousai shriek, covering their hair as an orchestra of bird droppings strikes them from above, and run around aimlessly.

Aurum and Argentum suddenly appear from the wilds, charging into whatever monstress comes their way.

“GIRLS! _GET BACK HERE!”_ the head empousa screams. Her hair ignites with a fury—but as bird poop lands in her flickering locks, it only enhances the terrible smell. Nico’s been around enough war eagles to recognize the godsawful scent.

Jason is quick. Nico startles as the other demigod suddenly joins him beneath his shield, bird poop pelting against them more violently than the fattest rain drops. Dark, charcoal eyes are in full view, Jason’s breath in his ear.

“Can you get up?” Jason whispers—and there’s a militant quality to his tone that _masks_ the fear from before.

Nico tries his best to move, but the pain is drilled into the bone of his leg. He stifles a cry of pain and grits his teeth. “I—no. I can’t.” 

“Got it.” Out of nowhere, Jason effortlessly sweeps Nico into his grasp—and the pain is so overwhelming that Nico’s blinded by a flash of white. He hisses in discomfort—good knee suddenly pressed against his chest while the other dangles limply.

Despite Jason’s firm and protective grip, the son of Hades is angrily shaking. His gaze darts upwards to the flying statue of Athena—then to Hedge ten feet away with the bird poop covered empousai.

“Nico,” Jason suddenly says, “I’m going to do something really stupid.”

There can’t possibly be anything stupider than having four flocks of birds guard the Athena Parthenos.

“On my lead, tell the birds to drop the statue on top of us.”

“ _What_?”

Jason plummets into the shadows with Nico in tow. The movement is swift—Nico’s stomach doesn’t catch up with him until much later—and out of instinct, he grabs a fistful of Jason’s shirt. They surface quickly and suddenly, the head empousa from ten feet away is now ten _inches_ from the pair of demigods.

“ _YOU!”_ the head empousai hisses. She lunges towards them, claws extracted—and Jason aims his bloodied sword at her. “ _Drop the Son of Jupiter.”_

Jason’s grip only tightens around Nico—and the latter demigod is vaguely aware of the red staining Jason’s fingers. “Give me my uncle, Kelli.”

“Don’t tell me you’re tired of me already, babe.” Kelli the empousa stares at Jason with a searing familiarity that apparently hits too close to home. There’s a sense of hate and venom that drenches her tone. She smirks menacingly. “So _this_ is your type? Boys you _hurt_?”

There’s a tiny way that Jason falters at the words. The sword wavers for just a moment. Nico thinks he would miss it, had they not been holding onto each other so closely. He realizes that the familiarity is there because Kelli and Jason have fought each other before. _Luke’s_ Jason.

Nico’s met a lot of monsters before. Usually, they’re cursing out Percy and strike first—

“Don’t be sad, Jason,” Kelli the empousa says. “You know you were never going to be Luke’s _type_ anyway.”

—but clever words seem to strike far more easily for Jason than a claw to the heart.

“ _ANYTIME NOW, KID!”_ Coach Hedge hollers.

Saving his uncle luckily has far more weight in Jason’s heart than Kelli’s cruel words.

“Nico,” he says sharply. “ _Now._ ”

“ _Drop it!_ ” Nico shouts—and he yelps as Jason suddenly holds him closer. Jason swipes his own gladius against Kelli with blinding speed—

“ _AGHHHH!”_

_—_ and runs past her disintegrating flesh. The other empousai scour towards them, covered from head-to-toe in bird poop. In a swift gesture, Jason grabs his hogtied uncle by the hooves.

The silhouette of the Athena Parthenos grows larger as it plummets towards them. The empousai running towards them suddenly disperse once more, in fear of getting crushed beneath the Virgin Athena. And _gods_ —this _was_ a stupid idea.

“ _Jason_ —”

“ _Trust me_ ,” Jason urges.

It all happens in the fraction of a millisecond.

The shadows beneath Jason’s feet suddenly coil with the shape of the Athena Parthenos—and they descend into darkness with the statue hot on their trail.

*

They fall _up._

The ground suddenly spits them from the shadows—and the first thing Nico is aware of is the fact that it’s still _dusk_ where they ascend. They jolt in the air like the apex of a bouncy ball—and while one of Nico’s legs is _red_ from the waist down, he’s suddenly green in the face and ready to barf. His entire body trembles in pain, and he’s on the edge of lurching whatever blood is still in him.

Imperial gold is _deadly_ to demigods. Nico can barely keep himself awake.

They land with the Athena Parthenos somehow beneath him. Nico’s vaguely aware of Jason shielding him like armor, one arm protectively wrapped around his body while the other fists the ropes around Coach Hedge’s ankle.

Jason’s recovery is quicker than Nico’s. Everything suddenly feels like it’s moving a fifth of its normal speed, yet still too fast.

Later, Coach Hedge and Jason will tell him how they landed in some small town in France and Jason quickly stitched him back together.

Right now?

“What are you doing?” Nico mumbles faintly.

“Taking your pants off,” Jason utters shamelessly.

Nico hasn’t the slightest idea what’s going on.

His head lulls into Jason’s pec before he’s set on a hard surface—a picnic table?—and suddenly, Jason slinks back in the shadows. Nico doesn’t notice the other demigod’s return until Jason’s hands are on him again, pale fingers free of blood and the smell of public restroom soap pungent. Nico hisses as Jason’s palms curl around his wounded leg. An untied Coach Hedge scampers over with the first aid kit, Nico’s half-empty vial of unicorn draught, and stale ambrosia squares.

Jason pulls the dagger dangling from Nico’s hip—and with clean precision, slices through the rest of Nico’s jeans. It’s one more thing he doesn’t quite understand about the son of Hades—Jason is agile with a sword and fast on his feet—as a combatant despite claiming not to fight anymore—and he’s evidently experienced in _healing_ , too.

“ _Gods_ , Nico,” Jason whispers, and there’s a subtle tremble in his tone. Nico _hates_ how it sounds. “I’m—I’m _so_ sorry—”

“Don’t be,” Nico cuts him off, and an unearthly chill spikes through his limbs. He has a feeling _that’s_ not supposed to happen. “Consider us even.”

For all of the shame that’s washing over Jason’s face, Nico never should have reminded Jason of what happened last summer. Jason, however, puts on a strong face, his gaze hardening in a way that reminds Nico of what the son of Hades was like with Diocletian’s scepter.

“You’re going to want to bite on this,” Jason says finally. He reaches for the ambrosia square in Uncle Gleeson’s grasp. Nico sinks his teeth into it—and it feels as hard as biting a hockey puck. “Ready?”

“ _AGH—”_ There’s a new pain that drives into Nico as Jason applies pressure to the wound—and then he passes out.

*

There’s a younger version of himself in his dream. Four, maybe.

The air is different in Venice. Crisper, without the fumes and cacophony of car beeps and sounds that Nico has grown used to in San Francisco. He watches from afar as his four-year-old self blithely hops between the cracks of the cobblestone sidewalk, hands splayed like an airplane.

Four-year-old Nico _loved_ airplanes. He loved it when his mom would lift him into the air as though he weighed nothing and help him fly—long before Nico actually could. His cheeks glow with a rosy hue, hair swept with the wind—and there’s a joyous smile on little Nico’s face that his older self hasn’t seen in a long time on his own.

Nico loved pilots as a child. He also loved the tale of Peter Pan—of the boy who never grew up and befriended a girl who stitched his shadow to his feet—and the story of Dracula—the _cool_ parts where he could turn into a bat. Four-year-old Nico wanted to _fly._

Little Nico’s fixations changed like the weather—pilots, Lost Boys, vampires, pirates—but the one constant was that he was _happy._

He watches as his younger self skips towards him, eyes as pristine and blue as the sky. The smile on little Nico’s lips is so bright and infectious that even the corner of fifteen-year-old Nico’s lip twitches. The birds around little Nico seem to be singing a happy melody. Cuckoos.

Then little Nico almost gets lost in the bustle of a crowd.

He’s blissfully unaware of the people around him—bobbing and weaving through the street like the speck of a dandelion in the air—all the while making happy airplane noises and pretending he’s a fighter pilot.

Little Nico doesn’t notice the car behind him.

_“Watch it!_ ” Nico shouts. He moves to push his younger self out of the way—but something latches onto his leg like a cinderblock.

And suddenly he doesn’t _have_ to push little Nico out of the way.

A woman appears and plucks little Nico out of danger. When present-day Nico catches sight of her, a lump swells in his throat.

_“Mammina!_ ” his little self shouts happily, not even an ounce of fear in his voice. He throws his arms around her, nuzzling into her embrace like a baby bird to its mother. _His_ mother.

This Juno is an ethereal woman in her early thirties—in a prim and pristine white gown and cape adorned with peacock feathers. There isn’t one strand of glossy hair out of place. Her makeup is regal—not quite as glamourous as the Goddess of Love, but every line is clean. If Nico doesn’t look too closely, he can almost see Reyna in her face—for all the years that the daughter of Bellona has taken care of him in her time at camp.

Juno’s eyes are a warm brown as they cast a glance down at the young Nico.

“Careful, _passerotto_ ,” Juno coos lovingly. They stand across the street, but present-day Nico can hear the words in the shells of his ears. He jumps, when Juno’s eyes raise to meet him. “You know I never want to see you get hurt.”

Nico trembles. The ache in his leg is agonizing now. In his dreams, he _knows_ how it happened, but—

“It was an accident, mammina,” Little Nico explains. And then he promises, as sweet as nectar in Nico’s ears, “I’ll look both ways next time!”

“I know, my little sparrow,” she says, and she tosses him in the air—because it was never just the _one_ mother who would let him fly. It wasn’t the _one_ mother who told him stories before bed. Nico had two.

And the memories have been coming back to him ever since Jason opened that floodgate days ago—each one more vivid than the last.

Ever since coming out of the casino, he’s only moved in one direction: forward. Nico followed Thalia, away from the past and into a new life that didn’t involve being incarcerated in Las Vegas. She shed a past that she didn’t want to share—and Nico followed in suit, accepting that even with the daughter of the Underworld as his new big sister, he’d never have that old one again. He’d never be happy like _that_ , again.

Knowing Bianca walked the same path only frightens him.

Remembering how they started that path frightens him even more.

Because—why now?

“How about we buy some bread, passerotto?” Juno hums, her voice an even sweeter melody than the cuckoos. “I love making wonderful memories with you.”

The words make Nico shudder.

“Can we buy some for Mama and Bianca too?” Little Nico asks.

Nico knows a _yes_ is already at the tip of the Queen Goddess’s tongue. Juno never really told him _no_ growing up.

Little Nico stuffs loaves of bread in his shirt each time Juno turns away. The baker sees him clear as day, and Juno pretends not to notice as she pays. The windows are long and dainty in the bakery—Nico used to love cloudwatching with Bianca as their mom tended to business.

He's not sure how long he’s been asleep. Nico just knows that for some reason, the goddess of family wants to take him through their memories together.

“Mammina!” Six-year-old Bianca appears from the di Angelo manor. She greets Juno at the front gate, past the bird bath decorated with the Goddess of Victory. The freckles on her face stretches with her smile, and she stops short of the Queen goddess’s robes.

At first, Nico wonders why Juno doesn’t split, like the rest of the gods. There’s _Jupiter_ and _Zeus_ , and _Pluto_ and _Hades._

But to six-year-old Bianca and four-year-old Nico, she’s just mammina.

“Was that you singing in the window, stellina?” Juno greets affectionately. Nico can see his young self at her hip, jostling as warm bread crunches beneath his shirt. “I almost mistook you for a muse.”

Bianca blushes shyly, and the red blooms across her face like the milkyway streaks behind stars. “Mama taught me how to hit the high notes.”

_Mama_ appears from the house, and Nico covers his mouth to hide a sob. She shares Bianca’s smile and her long, silky hair—but the starry glint in her eyes is something Nico’s always chased in his own reflection.

_This_ is the happiness he’ll never get back. No one will ever replace Thalia, Percy, or Reyna in his life—but no one could ever replace this family, either. This happiness. Jupiter took it away from them like a tornado colliding into a town with no way to ever leave Oz.

His sister never knew she could go back after getting these memories.

Nico is in a constant state of wondering if he was better off moving forward.

“Mama!” Little Nico pulls out a slightly crushed loaf from the collar of his shirt. “We bought bread!”

“ _Did_ you, passerotto?” His mother coos, and she takes the smushed bread from her little son. She leans in to kiss him on the forehead, and present-day Nico’s palm lands beneath his own bangs, reminiscing on the touch. Then she looks up to Juno, who softens for Maria di Angelo—only ever Maria. “How about a picnic?”

They splay a warm flannel blanket beneath the only oak tree in the estate. Their picnics were near where Nico’s grandparents are buried. Nico remembers Bianca asking once, why they would eat so close to their graves.

“Family is with you for life,” he remembers Juno saying.

His mother’s eyes had glittered as she held Bianca close to her breast, and she winked. “And they’re still with you in death.”

Little Nico runs around with bursts of energy, a fistful of bread in his right hand and crumbs decorating his face. Bianca often tried to sit like a prim and proper lady like the Queen of the Heavens—but with one reassuring nudge from their mortal mom, she’s off chasing after her brother.

At some point, they retire to the picnic blanket, little Nico’s cheeks swollen red and chest heaving. He splays over his mortal mother’s lap, and even present-day Nico lulls at her laugh. Bianca sits daintily beside the Queen of the Heavens and smooths out her skirt.

“Isn’t this nice?” Juno asks—and she raises her eyes again to Nico. _Present-_ day Nico. “I want my family to be together.”

“Mammina!” Little Nico whines as he crawls over to their picnic basket. “There’s no bread left!”

All eyes turn to little Bianca as she tears the last loaf of bread with a crisp crunch.

Little Nico stares at her pleadingly, and she rolls her eyes in a fashion that big Nico knows all too familiarly.

“ _Fine_ ,” she concedes, “but just this once.”

When she hands the other half of the loaf of bread off to little Nico, present-day Nico finds it in his hands instead.

Little Nico is gone. Fifteen-year-old Nico is suddenly sitting on the large flannel blanket, the other half of his favorite bread between his fingers.

Behind him, his two moms are still talking as though nothing is happening. The garden is still the same. Cuckoo birds are still bathing beneath the Goddess of Victory. Nico can _smell_ the bread in his palms, and he’s salivating.

“You still dream about me.”

Nico looks back up and drops the bread.

Fifteen-year-old Bianca is the spitting image of Maria di Angelo—with the same beautiful smile, and the starry glint that they both inherited. They could be _twins._ She sits like the princess daughter to the Queen of the Heavens in a way her six-year-old self could never achieve, in her yellow Peter Pan-collared dress and brown booties.

There’s a new addition that the picture Jason gave him doesn’t account for: a silver tiara and a matching parka. The outfit of a huntress.

But she’s _not_ a huntress now, nor the daughter of Zeus with the pressures that paralleled Nico’s frustrations as a son of Jupiter. She’s his big sister beneath the oak tree where their grandparents are buried—where family remains with them in life and in death.

And she smiles past death with ease. Sadness. “I dream about you, too.”

This time, Nico _can’t_ hold back his tears. “Bian—?”

The sound of wolves howling pierces through Nico’s memory like a rock to a mirror. The hairs on his arms suddenly stand erect and a cold chill runs up Nico’s spine. The lush gardens round them suddenly fades into cold darkness—with nothing but a blacklight to illuminate their path.

Bianca curses, and she takes a stance that Nico never thought he’d ever see—one hand on a hunting knife strapped to her left (the same way he holsters his own dagger)—and stands to her feet, their warm family picnic having vanished. “I need to find you before he finds _me._ ”

“ _Finds_?”

“Bye, Nico,” she says, and her moments are fleeting. She stands to the tips of her toes and kisses him on the forehead. “For now.”

_For now_? “Wait—”

Bianca sprints. Their garden becomes a corridor, with the sound of blinding arcade games deafening Nico.

“Bianca!” Nico tries to go after her—but the pain shoots up his leg again. He drags his leg behind him and stumbles—falling into a plate of forgotten food.

And like always—Nico wakes up to the cold reality that his sister is gone.

*

“…want you to worry about him…”

Nico stirs to the sound of Jason not too far from him. He thinks he might still be dreaming when he notices a haze in the air—then realizes the other demigod is in the middle of an Iris Message with Percy.

_“How could I **not** worry? He’s been asleep for four days!” _

“ _Four days_?” Nico reiterates—and he’s suddenly aware of how dry the back of his throat is. He jerks forward, coughing—and that’s the _easy_ part of his wake. Nico moves his leg ever so slightly and the burn shoots up his leg. Even curling his big toe hurts. He reaches to clutch his stomach and realizes there’s a rope tied to his torso. His armor is gone. Nico’s drenched in his own sweat—yet shivering.

Jason’s by his side in an instant. Nico’s vaguely aware that the other end of the rope is tethered to the son of Hades—but it gets overshadowed by the bottle of water being handed to him. Nico can barely get out a _thank you_ before he plants his mouth on the spout.

“Easy now,” Jason says, his own voice strained and tired. “Drink slowly. Don’t move your leg too much. Your fever’s broken, but I don’t want you to puke again.”

_“Nico!_ ” Percy shouts from the Iris Message. A wave of relief flourishes in his voice. _“You’re awake!_ ”

Gods, what Nico wouldn’t give to have one of Percy’s hugs right now. He breathes in heavy pants once he hits the end of the water bottle, then looks up to the Iris Message. Nico soaks in the image of Percy for a moment—then Jason.

They both look exhausted. Bags decorate their eyes. Jason looks more disheveled than Percy does—his pale blond hair in disarray over his forehead. His white shirt is wrinkled with stains of dried blood— _Nico_ ’s blood—and the other end of the rope is tied loosely around his hips.

Percy looks tired—but Nico has a feeling between the three of them, the son of Neptune has showered the most recently.

“He’s right, you know,” Nico says. His body wavers as he tries to prop himself up. Jason’s quick to hold him. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

_“Yeah, because **that** whole scene just now wasn’t worrying,”_ Percy snaps—and the frustration is evident. Nico wonders if Jason has been on the receiving end of it since he lost consciousness. He also wonders if Percy is persistent enough to keep _calling_ four days straight.

(Percy absolutely is.)

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

_“You are._ ” Percy falls into a begrudging silence. _“Thank you, Jason. Who knew a son of Hades could be such a healer **.** ” _

This son of Hades could be a _lot_ of things. Nico is wobbly as he tries to inspect himself. The last thing he remembered was his pants being drenched in his own blood. His jeans were lost in the hysteria of getting out of Bran Castle—but his leg is clean. In place of the open gash is a proper lining of bandages. Even wounds on his arms have been properly dressed.

There’s also a bandage over his tattoo, where one of the empousa managed to cut him. Nico can’t help but wonder if it’ll leave a scar.

“Don’t be mad, Percy,” he says finally. “Jason’s taking good care of me.”

Though he’s very concerned at the rope tied to his torso. And why there’s dirt between his toes.

_“I’m not mad_ ,” Percy insists, and his eyebrows furrow together in the message. _“I just—I wish I could’ve gone with you.”_

“I was trained by the best swordsman at camp,” Nico reassures. “I’ll be fine.”

He decides not to mention the part where Jason practically beat him into oblivion. From the looks of the way son of Hades tries his best not to squirm, Jason hasn’t divulged that fact either. The corner of Percy’s lip curls into a wry smile.

“Besides—you’re needed with Gaea. I wouldn’t be of much use if we were transporting the statue in the ocean,” Nico says. “We’re getting closer to Camp Halfblood every day. We’ll see each other on the other side.”

Nico tries not to sound too dismissive. He understands Percy’s concern—always has—but they’re far too deep into their quest. Percy is loyal to a fault—and Nico doesn’t think they can lose any more days over him.

Fortunately, despite Percy looking doubtful, he nods. _“We’ll see each other on the other side. Keep me updated, Jason.”_

He gives a pointed look to the son of Hades, and Nico can only wonder how many conversations have been exchanged in his slumber.

Finally, the Iris Message fades. And again—Jason and Nico are left alone.

Nico’s inclined to move—but the pain suddenly shoots up his leg like sticking his hand in an open flame. Jason wordlessly reaches out to steady him.

“Imperial gold is no joke,” Jason mutters.

“You bandaged me up.”

“I did.”

“You bandaged me up _well_ ,” Nico reiterates—and he gently traces the tape over his legs. He feels the outline of the stitches—which are probably no bigger than his index finger.

“As best as I could. We used up most of the nectar and unicorn draught.” Jason falls quiet. “You…started floating in your sleep. I don’t know if we have enough to keep you solid.”

“Great,” Nico mutters glumly—and evidently, his tone is enough to make Jason grimace. “I’m guessing that’s why I’m tied to you like a balloon.”

“Yeah.” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together. For as delicately as he stitched Nico’s leg back together, his hands are suddenly shaking again. “Nico—I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be,” Nico counteracts. “You were under the control of the empousa. It happens.”

Jason stares at him with confusion. “That’s…what Percy said.”

The corner of Nico’s lip twitches tiredly and he inspects the rest of himself. Again, he repeats, “It happens.”

Empousa aren’t Nico’s favorite monster. He used to have those when he started playing Mythomagic, but it turns out that mythological beasts were more of a pain in the butt than the implied 70 Hit Points.

Nico’s sparred every day with Thalia, Reyna, and Percy since he was ten. Dodging their movements by now is mostly muscle memory. He’s not kidding when he says he was trained by the best swordsman in camp—but knows that extends much further than how Percy handles Riptide. He _knows_ how to dodge them. Jason’s another story.

“You got me pretty good. I didn’t realize you could fight so well.” Nico’s mind flashes back to his first meeting with Jason. “But something tells me that’s why you don’t fight at all now.”

Nico doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed before. Jason’s hand raises behind the beads hanging around his neck and lingers. There’s a sense of hesitation in his eyes, and he’s looking far past Nico now.

“You didn’t hurt me on purpose. I know you don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Nico says quietly. “You never have.”

“But I did.”

“ _You_ didn’t. Kelli the empousa _made_ you.”

Jason mutters something under his breath and bows his head. “And here I hoped liking girls could never be used against me.”

“It’s never been a problem for me.”

Jason snorts. It’s then that Nico notices their surroundings—a cavern lit only by a fire, with nothing but trees off in the distance. Beneath his cloak is a pile of leaves, twigs, and shiny coins. Not too far off from Jason is their first aid kit—and from the looks of it, even more opened bandages and medical supplies.

“Bread?” Jason asks. Nico startles as Jason offers a slice of a baguette in a bundled-up napkin. “You kept mumbling about it in your sleep. Uncle Gleeson bought some while he was in town.”

Red burns in Nico’s cheeks and his chest hurts. He thinks of the bread that fell out of his fingers in his dreams.

And he thinks about who gave it to him.

“Where is Coach?” Nico decides to ask, pushing the thought out of his mind. He doesn’t want to deal with the family of ghosts from his past. _Family is with you in life and in death_ , his two moms said. Emphasis on the _dead_ part.

“He went to buy more supplies.”

“What about the food and medical supplies over there?” Nico gestures to a cavern wall. He guesses the rope between Jason and he is no longer than six or seven feet—enough of a distance that Jason could do whatever tasks and still keep an eye on him. Which—is startling. Nico’s heard of people hovering over one another—but never in a literal sense.

Jason lets out a tired sigh, and Nico thinks he gets a hint at how the last four days have gone. The corner of his lip etches into smile. “Let’s just say that Uncle Gleeson and I have a different idea of what _medical supplies_ means. He wanted to bury you and use plant magic.”

That explained the dirt between his toes. Another thought crosses Nico’s mind and panic sets in. “Where’s the statue?”

Again, Jason doesn’t look fazed. Evidently, he made sure to check every box while Nico was recovering. He gestures just outside. “More keep coming every day.”

A flock of birds rests on the Athena Parthenos: on her shoulders, on her head, huddled around the tiny statue of Nike, wedged between her toe—and so on.

“Cuckoos,” Nico says quietly, and his hand rests on his forearm where he’d grown used to seeing an eagle in his four years of service. “They’re a symbol of Juno.”

_Juno_ is still an awkward topic between them. There’s an impending fear in Nico’s mind—one that’s been there since their first meeting—that Jason will keep unlocking doors to memories that Nico didn’t know existed. He keeps anchoring Nico to the past and _a_ past with Bianca Nico wasn’t apart of—much like the rope tied between them.

“Yeah,” Jason says softly. “I know.”

Jason’s gone through this journey already with Bianca already.

In Nico’s dream, his path diverged with Bianca again—her voluntarily separating herself under the bright lights and flashing games of the Lotus Casino.

“They kept trying to build a nest for you,” Jason explains, and he curtails around the _Juno_ topic before Nico can linger too long. “They, uh, saw you were injured and were trying to help.”

Red burns in Nico’s cheeks. He coughs awkwardly—and burns brighter when Jason instinctively offers him more water. “This wouldn’t be the first time.”

Between the rope around his stomach, a satyr trying to bury him alive, and his goddess mother’s symbol of power trying to build him a home, Nico wonders if it was better that he was unconscious.

“I…don’t have much luck with animals,” Jason admits, and he sounds more embarrassed by that fact than Nico would expect. “I think we came to a compromise. Somehow they knew to take care of the statue while I treated you.”

“Who taught you how to treat wounds like this?”

“The Apollo kids.” Jason grows quiet, and yet another awkward subject emerges. “After the war, I…couldn’t stomach the idea of fighting again. Not after what happened. I tried to get back into the swing of things and play, like, Capture the Flag, but I…”

“You what?”

“I froze,” Jason says grimly. There’s a strain to his voice as he explains it, and the grief in his tone makes Nico shudder. “And people were scared. Capture the Flag wasn’t fun anymore. I…can’t take back what happened during the war, but I hoped healing people would help them feel better.”

He falls quiet again, his gaze weary as he scans the bandages around Nico’s leg with great poignance.

“I hoped,” Jason admits, “that it would make _me_ feel better.”

After seeing how effortlessly Jason swung a sword, Nico can only imagine what tapping into the powers of Hades would be like. “I’m sorry for what I said, Jason.”

“S’fine,” Jason says, just as nonchalantly as when Nico tried to apologize back in Transylvania. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” Nico mumbles. “And hot, somehow.”

Despite the bandages compressing his leg, his thigh feels hollow. He’s afraid to put pressure on it. Nico has survived monster attacks and the occasional scrape in the War Games—but a direct wound makes him nervous.

Jason pulls his leather jacket around Nico’s shoulders. The gesture is so reminiscent to Pripyat, when Jason voluntarily left Nico behind with the coat, that he’s confused again. But—there’s no hesitation in the way Jason moves now. Stabbing a friend left Jason speechless, but he takes the lead in taking care of Nico.

“Get some food in your stomach. We lost a few days, but I can get us across the Atlantic in the next jump. There’s still time to save Piper.” Jason pauses, then adds, “Thank you, for letting me save Uncle Gleeson. Your friends are still alive. I know it.”

It's certainly a stark contrast from the other day when Jason said some deaths were inevitable. There’s a little bit of hope in his tone. Nico catches himself staring at the other demigod. Jason’s movements lag a little—clearly fighting off slumber that’s been chasing him for the last couple of days. He’s disheveled, covered in mud and dirt, but his hands are clean and sterile to tend to Nico’s wounds. Every gesture holds intent.

“Who…taught you how to fight?” Nico finds himself asking. For the first time since the switch between Annabeth and Reyna happened, he’s interested in the Greek camp and culture.

Jason looks puzzled by the question.

“Chiron,” Nico guesses, “when he wasn’t out for the school year. And Luke?”

The corner of Jason’s mouth twitches, like Nico’s said something funny. “I taught Luke.”

One of Jason’s memories comes to the forefront of Nico’s mind: six-year-old Jason easily disarming a teenager twice his size. He could laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Nico’s reminded of his own training in the Legion, and how he once accidentally kneed Percy when the centurion got too close to him.

“But you don’t fight anymore. And I made you raise a sword against the empousa.” Guilt emanates through Nico. And again, “I’m sorry.”

Jason looks just as remorseful. “It only got that far because I went after you.”

“It happens,” Nico repeats dismissively. “Still—if you’re not wanting to fight—”

“That was never really going to be a choice out here,” Jason cuts him off, blond eyebrows furrowing together. “Not in the outside world. Monsters are going to come after us. It happens.”

To his surprise, Jason mimics Nico’s expression eerily well, his demeanor grim.

“Thank you for keeping me safe for so long,” Jason continues. “I…promised myself that I wasn’t going to fight anymore after what happened in the war. But if the people that I care about are in danger, I’m not going to stand around and do nothing. It’s my duty to protect them.”

There’s a determination in his voice that resonates well with Percy, Nico thinks. But at the same time, there’s a solemness to Jason’s tone. The number of camp beads around Jason’s neck makes Nico wonder how long Jason has uttered that mantra.

“Not all of the monsters we’ve encountered have been bad,” Nico mumbles. He doesn’t miss the way his heart hiccups when Jason glances back at him. “I…about Juno—”

That same lump swells in his throat—the same one from watching his younger self get picked up from the ground. Jason is patient while Nico tries to get the words out. He has to fight the reflex to deflect. After all of these years of trying to put Bianca behind him, it’s hard to bring it up. Nico’s default is to move forward. It’s the only way Thalia and he have survived so long.

“I didn’t react well. I reacted awfully,” Nico corrects, and he stumbles over hurdles in his head to get to an apology. “I—”

“It’s fine, Nico,” Jason says. “You can talk to me, or you can _not_ talk to me. I’m just happy you’re safe.”

Nico’s cheeks burn. He has no idea how to explain how he needs to stop using Jason as a verbal punching bag.

Jason takes it in stride anyway, and instead gestures to the slice of bread between Nico’s fingers. “Eat. You’ll need to regain your strength for the rest of our quest.”

“Jason, I. I _want_ to talk. Eventually,” Nico says, and his stomach does somersaults. There’s only one other person in the world who holds his late big sister close in their heart like Nico does—and he’s avoided that topic and _person_ for far too long. Especially with that last dream.

“Okay,” Jason says, and he still insists with the baguette. “Eat first. Safe is better than sorry.”

In brighter circumstances, Nico would laugh at Jason quoting him. Really—he could never say that Jason Grace was a bad listener. “Safe is better than sorry.”

The bread doesn’t taste nearly as good as the bakery in Venice. Nico already said it before—he’s never going to have _that_ Venice again. It tastes worse in his mouth when he remembers losing _that_ Venice included his mammina, too.

Coach Hedge looks ready to cry when he comes back with a sack of dirt slung over one shoulder and a box of powder protein in his other arm. He sniffles so loudly that the birds stir.

“It was the topsoil,” he says. “I knew sticking your feet in it would work!”

Nico stares quizzically at Jason, who shrugs—and suddenly he has an armful of goat. “Coach—I had no idea you cared so much.”

“I care about each one of you cupcakes,” Coach Hedge barks between sniffles. “They just don’t make humans as tough as they used to. Look at Grace!”

“Technically, I came before him,” Nico corrects—and he blinks as mirth fills Jason’s smile.

They settle in for the evening around the campfire while Coach Hedge explains the _alchemy_ behind sports and plant medicine. Apparently, it involved mixing dirt with peanut butter protein powder—and just a sprinkle of whatever other things are lying around the forest.

“The birds got a head start with the twigs,” Coach Hedge explains, and he sounds impressed. “Did you know the kid’s in the mafia, Jason?”

Jason stares at Nico in confusion, and Nico shakes his head vehemently. “Please don’t start with that.”

Nico can’t really put a lot of weight on his leg. He has to lean on Jason and let the other demigod guide him away to relieve himself and change into a fresh set of clothes.

“Not a word,” Nico warns, when Jason’s eyes widen at the silly button up shirt.

“You cupcakes get some rest,” Coach Hedge says when they return—but his gaze is specifically locked on Jason. Nico has a feeling the son of Hades hasn’t slept very much. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

There’s a sureness to his tone that soothes Nico, for some reason. Hedge isn’t like any faun that he’s ever met.

They settle just a little past the entrance of the cavern—ready to shadowtravel at a moment’s notice. Nico notices Jason settle on the other side of the cavern and decides to test the waters.

“There’s plenty of room over here,” Nico says—and the other demigod cocks his head up in surprise. Part of him feels self-conscious—the birds graced Nico with a nest of twigs beneath his clean cloak, and Jason insisted he keep the jacket for the time being. “I noticed you haven’t slept as well as you did in the ship.”

Jason slept soundly in the Argo II—but that’s only after Nico had made a nest for himself in Thalia’s shag carpet. Nico’s not sure if his presence helps much—but Jason certainly mumbled Luke’s name a lot less.

He shivers at the reminder of the fact he muttered _bread_ in his sleep. Nico wonders if _mammina_ and _mama_ and _Bianca_ also managed to slither past his lips.

Relief floods Jason’s face. “I’d love that.”

With a little bit of adjusting, Jason settles beside Nico. It reminds Nico of the days where he’d go on quests with Reyna and Percy, huddled together and trying to make the best of the situation so they could get back home. It reminds him of when Thalia and he traversed Vegas and searched for Camp Jupiter, too. Jason’s just a kid, like the rest of them.

This duty to protect his loved ones bothers Nico. The way Camp Halfblood handled Jason _bothers_ Nico. If Nico was in the same shoes, he’d probably run away the first chance he got.

At that thought, he pauses. Nico would have run away. Bianca _did._ It’s just another thing he has in common with the sister that grew up past the age of twelve. And where did that fifteen-year-old Bianca in his dreams run away _to_?

“Good night, Nico,” Jason says quietly, snapping Nico out of his thoughts before he can spiral.

“Good night, Jason.”

They settle not too far from each other. Nico thinks he hears the tension release from Jason’s voice.

Tonight, the both of them need to get rest.

Tomorrow, they keep moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a doozy, wasn't it? The boys are back on track with a few more things to worry about while they get the statue transported! Hopefully all of you enjoyed it, this was very fun to write! 8) As always, stay safe and please feel free to leave a comment!


	11. the killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Looks like di Angelo is going through his cycle!” Uncle Gleeson remarks. “Mellie used to go through this once a month before she got pregnant!”
> 
> Jason almost trips over a rock. “Uncle Gleeson, I don’t think Nico has one of those!”
> 
> “Really?” Uncle Gleeson stops in his tracks, evidently baffled. “The kid’s turning into a cloud and doesn’t go through a rain cycle?”

Dressing wounds doesn’t come naturally to Jason. Not like fighting does.

The satyrs used to teach him about the countless herbs in the wild for survival. Grover would teach him about medicinal and culinary plants—everything that nature had to offer for the perfect vegetarian enchilada.

They all wilted. All the flowers, all the herbs—and even some trees, if Jason ever got too upset.

He was better with a sword at hand. Bobbing, weaving, and retaliating in comparison to reedpipes and dandelions. _That_ felt natural to him—like a fish to water. Talking to the many different monsters that inhabited the forest surrounding Camp Halfblood felt natural to him. One of his favorite past times was taking unusable scrap metal from the Hephaestus Cabin and feeding them to the myrmekes.

His other favorite past time was Capture the Flag.

Days, months, _weeks_ of endless training from Chiron, honing his swordsmanship, wielding a dagger, and endlessly training with a bow and arrow to perfection meant nothing if not used on the battlefield. In Capture the Flag, campers weren’t segregated by their godly parent—all that mattered was _Red_ _versus_ _Blue_ and getting the losing team to do the camp’s most hated chores. Jason got to wear a warm smile beneath his helm, wedged between Annabeth and Travis Stoll, and listen to Luke’s game plan.

Luke used to give him a secret grin during those war strategies. Jason was the secret weapon, he’d say. No one would ever expect him to come from the north.

The north, where the giant anthill lies. People always wondered why their weapons would go missing in the north. Was the Hermes Cabin just _that_ good?

Jason had thought it was a good bargain when he was a kid. His ant friends got fed and he barreled through the other campers like they were child’s play. Then—the blue team ended up in prison while Jason scampered off to pick swipe the Red Team’s flag from under their noses. No one expected the quiet kid who lived in Cabin Eleven for most of his life to suddenly develop a competitive streak.

Back then, Jason didn’t expect it either. He expected Luke to give him a strange look—like the rest of the campers. A little eyebrow furrow, a little frown, or the slightest change in pitch if he casually mentioned the harpy in the forest or the funny sea serpent at the bottom of the lake. Instead, Luke had listened to little Jason’s explanation about _good_ monsters and _bad_ monsters.

When Luke left, Capture the Flag wasn’t fun anymore. It was more important than ever to understand your opponent’s every move—because Luke taken some of their campers with them. All of the days spent in sword-training class wasn’t just for fun anymore—they needed to hone their skills or face the consequence of death.

Luke had taken all of Jason’s lessons and intended to use them behind Backbiter—half imperial gold, half steel and twice as deadly to demigods.

He’d taken Jason’s lessons about monsters, too, and charmed them to his side. Monsters like Kelli—who could twist words and manipulate Jason’s mind the way Luke could hurt his heart.

They needed to put their best foot forward with their best tactician—but even she tripped over the possibility of having to take their beloved Luke down.

Jason continued his classes from age eleven onwards, and every single one of Chiron’s lessons felt heavier. Every day was a day closer to his birthday—the day the fate of the Olympian Gods would be decided.

And—after Jason saved Olympus, everything was supposed to go back to normal. It didn’t matter how much blood was splattered from knuckle to elbow. How much of it coated his face, or how wet his shoes were, walking through the heaps of dead bodies around him. Olympus was saved, Zeus wasn’t usurped from his thrown and—instead of a gracious thank you, Jason spent his birthday covered in blood and listening to how Bianca should’ve been the chosen hero.

He led the funeral rites.

_He_ lit the funeral pyres.

_He_ —was supposed to go back to normal. After sixteen years of anticipating the end of the world and doing everything in his power— _going too far, with his power_ —to stop it, Jason needed to go back to normal. Whatever that was. The other foot dropped. Kronos was finally slain, Luke was gone, and they were _finally_ in a time of peace again.

Except—Capture the Flag still wasn’t fun.

The way their cabins had shrunk was palpable. There were gaps in their huddles, when they tried to plan. Voices were shakier as they joked about the chores they wanted to trade. Not even the Ares Cabin thrived on the idea of jumping straight into battle again—not after Silena Beauregard had lain down her life. Grips on swords were looser—and while the war was the peak of summer for many, they would soon be trading daggers and Ancient Greek for the safe haven of backpacks and algebra homework.

Jason _tried_ to get back into the swing of things. He gripped his sword over the past summer after scrubbing it clean and free of blood and stared too long at the knife Annabeth insisted on carrying in honor of Luke. He tried not to get nauseous over it—because no matter how many times he bathed, the metallic scent of _red_ was a musk he couldn’t get rid of.

Luke was gone. Bianca was gone. Michael Yew, Lee Fletcher, Silena Beauregard, Ethan Nakamura, Charles Beckendorf—all gone, and Camp was less joyous without their presence. Jason would’ve argued that camp was _never_ joyous—but it was different. He was never going to get that red from beneath his fingernails, or that scent from his nostrils.

Every time he squeezed that sword, the battlefield came to the forefront of his mind. Heaps of bodies, suddenly reanimating at his command, twisting and contorting to his icy words no matter how many times a monster or an opposing demigod sliced through him.

He couldn’t do it again.

Jason choked on every word and command at that Capture the Flag game. He couldn’t be a secret weapon anymore—not when that _secret_ had lit like an cruel beacon.

And—when someone came face-to-face with him in front of the Blue Team’s flag, _they’re_ the ones who screamed.

“Don’t hurt me!” sobbed a boy just a little older than Jason himself. “D-Don’t turn me into one of th-them!”

One of them. The many corpses that died on the battlefield but were still at his mercy. With one sharp scream, the veil seemed to lift from everyone’s eyes. There was _fear._ Even more so now, because while the spirits of their siblings passed, Jason was very much _still alive._ Jason could _do it again._

Things weren’t going to go back to normal—to _before_ the war. Before the prophecy, when Jason was only _two_. There was no way to wash away fourteen years of ruthless training, or the stench of blood on hi knuckles. Jason couldn’t just be _Jason Grace_ and _Son of Hades_ in different breaths anymore—they were one and the same. His _pulse_ and _anger_ are what sewed those two identities together—and it was never a choice.

He couldn’t hold the sword anymore. It _scared_ him too much. The possibility of more blood on his hands _terrified_ him too much.

So, he took to healing for the rest of the summer. Helping people grieve with the loss of their cabinmates or siblings and vowing to never pick up a sword again.

_Healing_ instead—because while Jason _said_ he could stop fighting, he needed to do something with his hands. He’s not sure what’s supposed to fill his _time_ now, with Kronos gone. Jason needs to be able to _fix_ things.

The Apollo Cabin gave him strange looks. For all his time at Camp Halfblood, Jason never had an interest in medicine. He had to _force_ himself to get there, the way he tried to _force_ the reedpipes and gathering herbs quickly before they could wilt between his fingers.

And—eventually, with patience, Jason got it. Suturing bodies and rolling bandages just has extra steps—the way sword fighting did. Maybe it didn’t come naturally to him, the way fighting or talking to monsters did—maybe it never would, but Jason knows how to listen. He knows how to take those steps.

He just wishes he could move forward—instead of being swept back into heartache and wielding a sword to hurt the people he cared about, like with the empousa.

“Consider us even,” Nico tells him in a faint voice—because despite all of the pain that Jason has caused in his dazed stupor, he isn’t fazed by it. Nico lays on a picnic table, drenched in his own blood and covered in different scrapes thanks to the empousa and _Jason’s_ doing—but there isn’t one ounce of fear in his voice.

Jason forces himself to stop shaking. Has to—because no matter how much blood and pain he’s caused Nico, he now has to close every wound and heal the son of Jupiter. He stares down at Nico’s shivering body with a grimace—and _desperately_ wants to toss the stupid gladius Percy had given him.

Instead, he tells Nico to bite on a stale ambrosia square—and forces himself from looking away as Nico screams in pain before passing out.

Dressing a wound is sort of like Capture the Flag. There’s a strategy to it—considering all the consequences of every hypothetical. In a way, it’s more straightforward—one wound, one battle plan. Jason takes Nico’s vial of unicorn draught and drenches it in a cloth. He wipes what cuts he can see—against Nico’s shoulder and over his torso, from long claws digging into flesh between his armor. There’s a huge welt on his head from getting smashed into the car, and—

Jason winces.

A bloody nose from when Jason punted him.

His hand starts to shake again as he stares at Nico’s shivering form.

“How’s he looking, kid?” Uncle Gleeson asks beside him.

“Not good,” Jason says—and his voice cracks. “Coach—can you—um. Can…you…?”

Uncle Gleeson puts a hand on his shoulder. “Do what you can, Jason. I’ll gather some herbs and more medical supplies.”

Jason forces himself to breath and nods. “Thank you.”

The worst offender is the leg wound. Jason could saw his arm off—and he still doesn’t think it’d be a deep enough punishment. He searches his mind for what Will has taught him in the last couple of months. An unfocused mind is no better than a dying patient.

With that thought in particular, Jason drenches his cloth with unicorn draught and presses it against Nico’s leg.

There’s a line where magical medicine’s benefits towards demigods ends and mortal medicine begins. Much like medicinal drugs, too much of one thing could be toxic—so he forces his mind to tread that line carefully. What he wouldn’t give right now for an Apollo kid to sing a hymn. Jason doesn’t trust his own voice.

He's on autopilot as he fixes Nico up. Jason works like a madman for what seems like hours with the Athena Parthenos parked far behind him. Jason’s unsure what the tourists see—hopefully something easier on the eyes than two teenagers that looked like they survived a hunting accident. His heart is pulsing in his chest, the panic throbbing beneath his fingers.

Slowly, the son of Jupiter is covered in less _red_ and more bandages thanks to Jason’s handiwork. The draught helps with the swelling in Nico’s face. The wounds are clean and dressed—and Jason is precise enough with his hand to use a sterile needle and stitch the leg wound cleanly. It takes the longest time of all of it.

By the time Jason is finished, his shirt is smocked with Nico’s blood. He sits on the back of his heels and searches for any other wound that might’ve been missed and inspects every bandage.

Uncle Gleeson startles him with a hand to his shoulder. “Jason, you gotta eat.”

Jason has no idea how ragged he looks. As he turns around, he notices Uncle Gleeson’s eyes darken at the sight of him, disturbed. Jason stares at the satyr carefully—at his bruised wrists and ruffled ankles from where the ropes bound him, and a black eye from who knows what.

“Yeah,” Jason breathes, when he finds his voice. “Just—let’s get you fixed up, too—”

“ _Ha!_ This battle wound?” Uncle Gleeson points a thumb to his mug and grins lopsidedly. “Mellie loves my battle scars, kid!”

He bellows with a mighty laugh—but Jason can’t join him. He stares at the lithe form of the old satyr, his hands curled at his sides. “Not like this, Uncle Gleeson.”

Uncle Gleeson’s boisterous smile falters, and his expression wilts. “You can do that thing, right? Y’know—hear him?”

“Yeah.” Jason wipes his hand on an already soiled cloth and pushes hair out of his eyes. Turning around, he takes in the rise and fall of Nico’s chest—and _hears_ the soft thrumming of Nico’s pulse. “It’s slow, but it’s there. I can hear his heartbeat.”

Despite himself, Jason stares at the battered demigod just to make sure. It’s not the first time today that his powers have betrayed them.

Uncle Gleeson tosses him a sandwich. “You’re in no better condition than he is if you’re starving, kid.”

He shoots Jason a look, evidently refusing to take _no_ for an answer. With great reluctance, Jason concedes.

They set up camp in the middle of the park. Jason doesn’t have enough energy to ask where they ended up. The bread is softer than what he’s used to. Each bite feels like a rock as it makes it past his throat. Between the two of them, there’s nothing but silence. Uncle Gleeson’s eyes are on Jason, but Jason’s eyes are on the rise and fall of Nico’s chest.

At some point, Uncle Gleeson builds a fire. Stars blanket the sky—and despite the utter chaos of Jason’s mind, the evening carries on as though they weren’t just fighting for their lives outside of Bram Castle.

“That was a close call,” Uncle Gleeson comments.

Jason gives one aching nod. They lost one party member just to come back _injured_.

And it’s his fault. No matter what Nico says. Jason’s chest clenches. He stares at Nico’s limp form near the campfire, and his rage threatens to bubble over.

His fault, for getting charmspoken. His fault, for having his back turned to the fight. His fault, for choosing not to fight in the first place.

Some _Chosen One_ he was.

“Kid,” Uncle Gleeson murmurs. He touches a hand to Jason’s shoulder, snapping the demigod out of his thoughts before all of France could be sapped of all its energy. “Di Angelo’s not gonna get better from you just staring at him. You gotta get some rest, too.”

The words wither in Jason’s throat. He turns back to his uncle—and this time, Uncle Gleeson makes no attempt at a joke. His demeanor is subdued compared to normal. As rowdy as Uncle Gleeson usually gets, he’s calm as he munches on Jason’s sandwich wrapper.

“What about you?” Jason asks. His voice is hoarse—and he comes to the realization he hasn’t spoken in hours.

“The trunk of a Volkswagen is surprisingly comfy.” Uncle Gleeson nods reassuringly. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead, kid.”

Jason’s gaze flits back to the unconscious demigod, the hesitation coiling in his stomach—but he gives in. He takes Nico’s backpack and reaches to place it beneath Nico’s head.

His hand goes straight through Nico’s skull.

Jason stares.

Nico lays across the table, unfazed. The haziness is evident at the tips of his fingers, wispy and willowy as months before. But, Nico’s long eyelashes remain closed, while the bump at his forehead has slowly shrunk in size.

Again, Jason tries, cradling the crown of the son of Jupiter’s head in the palm of his hand. He sighs in relief as his hand takes. Then, he places his jacket over Nico’s shivering form.

He’s alert as he lays down at the foot of the picnic table. Jason looks around their immediate proximity: the silhouette of the Athena Parthenos, only a few yards away. Coach Hedge pacing back and forth near the campfire, silver baseball bat slung over his shoulder. And Nico—who Jason makes sure is in grabbing distance.

They need to be ready to leave in a moment’s breath if they get attacked again.

Another thought crosses Jason’s mind and he grimaces.

He needs to be able to _hold onto_ Nico, in case they get attacked again.

Bodily wounds are one thing. Jason’s not sure he can _fix_ someone turning into a cloud.

*

Jason’s not sure when he falls asleep.

He’s twelve as he walks into the Big House with a tray of nectar and ambrosia in his hands. The storms have gone on for days now, shifting and churning above Camp Halfblood’s magical barrier. The howls of winds fill in the silent gaps left in place of campers who’ve left for the summer. Left like Annabeth, who thought another school year with her dad, stepmother, and half-brothers would be less painful than Jason’s silence.

So, it’s Jason at Camp Halfblood, taking care of the other year-rounders who have no one waiting for them past of Halfblood Hill. Jason, studying books and doing homework left by Chiron while the centaur went out to find other demigods.

It’s Jason, who is left to take care of the mysterious girl who arrived at their gate only a few days prior. The one who brought the storm with her, spilling as many tears down the sides of her cheeks as there is rain from the heavens.

He settles in a chair across from her for the third day in a row. The old tray is always empty when Jason comes to check on her. She hasn’t talked much since her arrival. There isn’t a Luke to protect her, or an Annabeth to guide her.

No, present day Jason reminds himself.

Bianca di Angelo came to the camp guided by eagles, with fresh talon wounds against her forearms because they had to drag her here—all the way from the Lotus Casino. Alone. Regardless of the pain when the Apollo Cabin disinfected her wounds, her eyes were elsewhere. Bianca didn’t have a Luke to protect her—but after the agonizing trek to Camp Halfblood, she hoped someone would be there to meet her.

“I thought—” she said in her soft voice, as she stared past the many faces that greeted her at her arrival. “—I thought he might’ve beat me here.”

They didn’t have the chance to ask who _he_ was. Once she cried, the endless storm fell with her tears. The Hermes Cabin is littered with buckets on the ground from an old leaky ceiling. The lake was high from the storm, and naiads spent their days guiding canoes back to shore. Mr. D went on a rant about how much it would cost to replace the shingles.

“Well?” he said to Jason. “You’re Acting Head Counsellor. Do something about it.”

Travis and Connor were back in Vermont with their mom for Christmas. There weren’t other year-rounders at Camp Halfblood—not ones who’ve been at camp as long as Jason has. But their oldest, most experienced camper had left the summer prior—just after Jason’s birthday, after trying to convince Jason they should leave together.

And given he almost said yes, Jason didn’t think _head counsellor_ is a role he’s suited for. It was another role he didn’t want thrusted upon him. His life has always been led by the whims of the gods—even if this one was confined to Camp Halfblood and outlandishly complained about every tiny chasm of camp.

She’ll end up in Cabin Eleven eventually, twelve-year-old Jason thinks—even if the storm dictates it’ll be for a short period of time.

Part of him is hopeful because of the storms.

After three days, she’s okay with his company. She changes out of the neon green shirt provided by some place called the _Lotus Casino_ , into a hand-me-down jacket and long-sleeve Camp Halfblood shirt. Jason sees something flicker in her eyes as she stares at the Pegasus on her shirt. Blue eyes. Much bluer and more expansive than the Apollo Cabin, like the sky. Of all the demigods Jason has met—all of the ones that stay in Hermes Cabin every summer, he’s never seen eyes like those. They hold the stars—and crackle with powerful electricity when provoked.

But in the beginning, they’re only filled with sorrow as they cry for the loss of her brother.

She’d gotten misty eyed when he explained what demigods were.

“Nico would’ve loved this,” she whispered.

Jason was envious, even if it was for a little bit. Bianca di Angelo didn’t have to walk alone long in life. She had a little brother— _another_ child of the Big Three, who walked hand-in-hand with her. Until she didn’t. He helped her grieve. After all—what else was a son of Hades good for?

On the third day, when she’d tamed the bird’s nest of hair and accepted her new life, her voice was a little more even. The heavy storm had subdued into a light shower as it waned with Bianca di Angelo’s emotions, and she looked at him, already void of hope.

“What happens if I stay?” she asked him, detached to camp like a gust of wind. Wind couldn’t be contained by mortals. They were a force of nature—and in the confines of four walls, had to be _forced_ to blow by a different entity together.

Jason knows the answer. Bianca di Angelo, daughter of Zeus becomes his best friend. She says there’s more to life than the prophecy—because unlike for him, they’re just words on paper. They don’t encapsulate her life the way they did for Jason the moment Alecto handed him off.

“You die,” he hears himself saying instead.

Bianca stares back at him, puzzled. Jason is suddenly in the corner of the room, watching his twelve-year-old self.

“What?” she asks—her voice still as soft as the first day—before the burden of Zeus _and_ the 1940s _and_ Hera all get to here. Under the roof of the Big House, it’s just the two of them.

“You die,” twelve-year-old little Jason repeats. “You left and you died.”

Bright, blue-eyed Bianca’s eyes widen—and she turns to a startled present-day Jason.

“Jace?” she whispers. Her eyes water with tears.

Red tears.

Big, bloody drops spill from the corners of her eyes, and Jason chokes—frozen in spot.

“We avenged you,” twelve-year-old Jason says—his voice calm and irreverent. “We killed him, because of you.”

Bianca reaches out with sobs from her bed—and the vibrant orange Camp Halfblood shirt suddenly swells in the middle—pooling with a brooding red beneath the orange fabric.

Twelve-year-old Jason turns around—and his oily eyes lock onto his present-day self. Goosebumps rise across present-day Jason’s arms. He tries to move—tries to shadowtravel out of the way—but the silhouette dances for only one son of Hades in the room.

Red smocks little Jason’s shirt, too. His shirt, his arms, his pants—and he wears it, like war paint. In the darkness of the room, twelve-year-old Jason grips the three-foot-long stygian iron sword in hand—the bittersweet gift from his father who _agreed_ that a war was pointless and resigned Jason to this fate, anyway.

He stares at Jason with the stoic gleam—the one that Jason spent years honing long before he realized what he was doing.

“We killed her brother, too,” he says—and Jason’s breath stalls in his throat.

He turns back to Bianca—only to find her gone.

“JASON!” screams Praetor di Angelo, with the same vast blue eyes and hair of the darkest sky—sword at hand.

Twelve-year-old Jason turns around and drills the blade through Nico’s chest.

“NO!” Jason screams—but it’s deafened by Nico’s own anguished cries of pain. He _lunges_ to save Nico—and suddenly the four walls of the Big House are gone. Jason’s sword is wedged in Nico’s leg, startling blue eyes staring straight back at him.

No bandages, no stitches. The blood is trickling from his leg, from his chest—and Nico’s _drenched_ in it. Jason’s palms are _soaked_ in red.

Twelve-year-old Bianca sits at her brother’s side, her eyes spilling with red tears as she sobs. She _stares_ at Jace, her blue gaze _sharp—_

\--and she’s only one of many, staring at him. More dead bodies, like Nico. More shocked campers, like Bianca.

“You killed him,” she sobs.

“Why’d you do it?” says Kelli the empousa asks, her voice sultry and thick to the point that Jason’s stomach rots. “Why’d you hurt him too, Jason?”

Jason’s hands shake at his side. They’re stained in red—from fingers to elbows, from knee to leg—and his own face is smeared like war paint.

“Why, Jace?” Bianca sobs again.

“Why?” Kelli the empousai asks.

“Why?” Twelve-year-old Jason asks—standing there, with his eyes gleaming beneath the red coat of blood. “How’d we get here?”

“That’s not what happened,” someone else says—and suddenly the four walls are back.

The blood is gone from Jason’s hands are gone. The sword is gone. Nico—

—is gone.

Twelve-year-old Bianca stares at him from her little cot, her hair made into a braid and a silver circlet at her forehead. Jason’s throat dries as she stares at him, her gaze a vibrant, corporeal blue that he’s only found again in one other person.

“What?” Jason asks—and although his voice feels small, it comes from him. Not the twelve-year-old kid that Chiron threw back into swordtraining classes with the extra hopes that it’d increase their chances over Kronos.

Again, she stares at him, her wounds gone.

“You didn’t kill him,” she urges, and her voice is certain. As certain as when she wanted to sneak out of Camp Halfblood, and when she swore the oath to Artemis. “You’re not a killer, Jace. Not in the way you think you are.”

Jason stares at her—and the chatter of hellhounds is apparent from the windows of the Big House. The other side is void—filled only with dark caverns and stalactites.

But that image of twelve-year-old Bianca doesn’t change. She sits there, waiting for him to reach out like their third day of camp and say, _give it a chance._ Give their friendship a chance. Give this new path a chance.

That chance still ended with Bianca going in a path Jason couldn’t follow.

“You’re still dead,” Jason whispers. No matter how many chances he could’ve offered her on her third day at camp, they all ended the same. Bianca dead, at Backbiter’s hand. The Huntresses mourning the loss of their _sister_ and dismissing the grievances of those who they considered lesser. Jason’s tears over four years of friendship meant nothing to the four weeks the Huntresses had her—because she died by Luke.

Twelve-year-old Bianca smiles at him, her skin glowing with absent moonlight and the circlet through her hair. “Wake up, Jace.”

*

Jason wakes up to dirt in his face. He sneezes as a wad of grass suddenly lands on his nose—and jolts up to a rain of lawn trimmings. Looking around, he—“Uncle Gleeson! _What are you doing_?!”

—finds the old satyr burrowing at the ground, kicking dirt in every which direction, with Nico’s unconscious body beside him. A daffodil sits prettily on the bandages over Nico’s face. New Rome’s praetor is caked in varying types of dirt and soil, while Uncle Gleeson continues to haplessly dig a trench in the park.

Uncle Gleeson whistles happily to himself, singing something under his breath that sounds like the PokéRap.

Immediately, Jason rifles through the dirt and picks Nico off the ground.

“Hey!” Uncle Gleeson whips around, dirt crusted between his fingers and tickling his beard. “Kid, you don’t know what you’re doing!”

Jason stares at the old satyr like he’s grown a second head. If Uncle Gleeson did, it’d look something like a rock covered in moss. “Nico’s healing!”

“I know!” Uncle Gleeson protests. “That’s why I put dirt on him!”

Jason looks down to Nico’s limp form—whose hair is now crusted with bits of topsoil. A caterpillar worms its way across Nico’s chest, evidently trying to find a post to cocoon into a butterfly. Nico has leaves over his eyes, like cucumbers at a spa—but this isn’t the type of mud bath anyone had in mind.

“Kid,” Uncle Gleeson urges, “I know what I’m doing!”

“He’s going to get infected!” Jason protests—and he lays Nico back on the picnic table before brushing what dirt he can off the other demigod.

A whimper leaves Nico’s mouth—small and feeble that Jason’s hands freeze.

Through the dirt, Jason pauses—if only to inspect what he _can_ of Nico. The swelling has gone down in the son of Jupiter’s face. The bandages—though smeared with dirt, have not been bled through. The stitches on Nico’s leg are still secure and—thankfully, still sealed by the bandages Jason put on them.

He checks Nico’s chest—and sighs in relief when there’s nothing there. Nico’s pulse is stronger than last night.

Evidently he says the last thought aloud, because—

“See?! It’s the topsoil!” –Uncle Gleeson insists. “Jason, you just never had a handle on plant healing when you were younger, you just don’t know about this!”

“Then let’s keep it that way,” Jason retorts as he inspects Nico for more dirt or creepy crawlies. He pauses, as he realizes his tone of voice—and turns to see Uncle Gleeson staring at him, surprised. Jason resists the urge to bury his face in his hand. “Sorry—Uncle Gleeson, I—I just. I need Nico to get better.”

He needs to know Nico will wake up.

Thankfully, Uncle Gleeson doesn’t hold it against him. Instead, the old satyr places a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “He will, Jason. With the topsoil.”

A sigh flutters from Jason’s lips, and he stifles whatever frustration is in him. He turns to the old satyr. “Coach, I don’t—”

“Hey!” Uncle Gleeson interrupts. “Di Angelo is flying off!”

_“What_?” Suddenly, Jason turns back to the picnic table—only to find Nico’s unconscious body shooting high in the air. “ _NICO!”_

He climbs the picnic table and reaches to grab the son of Jupiter by the ankle—only for a gust of wind comes from the west.

Instead of flying upward, Nico is swept away with the zephyr, floating further and higher away from both son of Hades and satyr. Jason leaps off the picnic table and takes off sprinting—and the clapping of Uncle Gleeson’s hoof echo behind him.

“Looks like di Angelo is going through his cycle!” Uncle Gleeson remarks. “Mellie used to go through this once a month before she got pregnant!”

Jason almost trips over a rock. “Uncle Gleeson, I don’t think Nico has one of those!”

“Really?” Uncle Gleeson stops in his tracks, evidently baffled. “The kid’s turning into a cloud and doesn’t go through a rain cycle?”

Oh, gods. They were going to have to catch Nico _fast_ —otherwise they’d be running around catching di Angelo-drops in a bucket. “Uncle Gleeson—guard the Athena Parthenos.”

Uncle Gleeson stares at him reluctantly. “But—”

“I’m counting on you,” Jason reaffirms. Once he gets a nod from the old satyr, he darts down a hill as fast as he can, pushing last night’s nightmare to the furthest corner of his mind. Jason sprints up a high hill as the winds slowly momentarily, and leaps into the air once again to grab Nico with no avail.

They make it into town with the gust slapping against tall buildings instead.

Jason shirks through a busy street, weaving through cars that drive on the wrong side of the road while seeing nothing more than Nico’s back as the son of Jupiter surfs through the wind. They get through half of the city as the son of Hades tries to track down New Rome’s praetor.

He finally gets an answer where shadowtraveling landed them—when Nico flosses into one of the many high lattices of the Eiffel Tower.

Paris, France. Jason groans at the foot of the national landmark—but for one reason or another, the gusts don’t blow Nico past the iron fencing. He looks around quickly. The sky is purple from the morning dawn—but there’s no way that Jason can just shadowtravel _between_ the structure. Not when the Eiffel Tower is casting the faintest shadow against asphalt. There are tourists—who hopefully see Nico as nothing more than a flimsy banner in the wind.

Without second thought, Jason climbs.

It isn’t too bad. The metal is cold from the early spring morning. Jason scales the base of the tower with—far more difficulty than he considered, but that thought is far past him. His hands are wet with morning dew, and he keeps his eyes upwards towards the sky—towards Nico, rather than the many people below.

There’s giggling, the closer he gets.

Jason squints—and he notices Nico dangling precariously over the iron lattice work—two stories above the ground. Three aurae hover around Nico with effervescent glee.

“My, my,” squeals one.

“So handsome!” coos another.

“Such beautiful hair!” says the third.

“Excuse me?” Jason shouts. “Um—miss…es? Misses?”

All three of them look at Jason, and the power of their looks nearly blows him off the tower. One gets close to his face, and Jason clings closely to the iron fencing.

“You’re quite the ways up!” says the aurae in his face.

Jason curls his fist into the fencing and struggles to find balance as he points towards Nico. “Um—you have my friend over there.”

“Oh!” shouts the second aurae—and suddenly, she’s whirling around Jason, this time knocking him in the other direction. He slaps a hand to the other side of the fencing, and clings closely. A look of disappointment flutters across her opaque face. “He’s _yours_?”

The third aurae gasps, solemn, and bellows from above. “He’s _taken_?”

“Oh—please—if you could just—he’s falling—” Jason waves a hand, unbalanced, in Nico’s direction as the other demigod dangles like two sides of a seesaw.

“Of course!” says the first aurae—and suddenly, she’s back to propping Nico from below as though he weighed nothing. Her giggles are infectious in Jason’s ears, like the prattle of birds.

The second aurae gasps gleefully again. “You climbed the _Eiffel Tower_ for your boyfriend? How _romantic!_ ”

“He’s not—um, we’re not like that.” Despite the severity of the situation, Jason feels the heat dust across his cheeks. He wobbles in place, his feet planted firmly between scaffolding.

“You climb the Eiffel Tower in the City of Love,” the third aurae insists, “and you’re not together? _Yet_ , it would seem!”

“Sure, yet—” Jason says, and he heaves. Spectators inside the restaurant suddenly press their faces to the windows from above—and Jason hasn’t the slightest idea what they could be seeing. “Please—he’s injured. Could you help him down?”

The first one sighs forlornly in a way that reminds Jason of Kelli the empousai—though much sweeter. She bats her eyes at Jason earnestly. “The pretty ones are _always_ taken.”

“Thank you—wh-whoa—”

“We gotcha, handsome!”

And suddenly, the giggling gaggle of gales whisks Jason and Nico off their feet and help their descent to the ground below. Jason feels the slightest spike in adrenaline—then he lands on his feet in a patch of grass between two of the cloud nymphs. The first one lands with Nico secured safely in her arms.

“Nico!” Jason breathes, and he goes to collect the son of Jupiter. Most of the dirt had washed away with the winds—but there’s at least one bug nestled in the frock of Nico’s hair. Jason inspects him carefully—and sighs with relief as he finds no new wounds or open cuts. He looks up to the first aurae, who stands patiently in a French tourist shirt that says _C’est La Vie_ in fancy cursive. “Thank you.”

“That one’s light as a feather,” she notes. “No wonder he got swept away in the wind.”

Jason takes in her words. Sure, Nico’s light—Jason hardly struggled carrying the son of Jupiter out of Transylvania yesterday. But, coming from a cloud nymph makes him worry more. “Um—is that bad?”

The three aurae stare at him, puzzled.

“Sorry,” Jason breathes again, and he holds Nico’s body close. “This just—it’s not my area of expertise. Would you ladies, uh—care to enlighten me what to do while my Nico’s going through his—um. Cycle?”

He’s not sure what part of his tired string of words does it—but all three nymphs look like they’re holding back endeared laughs.

“The monthly one,” Jason supplies.

“A sturdy umbrella for heavy rain,” advises the first cloud nymph.

“Lots of chocolate for endorphins,” informs the second cloud nymph.

“A heating pad for the cold front,” bemoans the third cloud nymphs. “Evaporating is _killer_ on the body! So many cramps! Maybe just for once I, like, don’t want to turn into rain!”

Something about this conversation feels painfully familiar.

“But,” instructs the first nymph, and she waves her hand around, “I’d hardly call this a _cycle._ Looks like your boyfriend just overexerted himself with his powers.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Jason corrects automatically—and he can feel the heat as it travels to the tips of his ears. He hasn’t the slightest idea of how Nico would react to that piece of information, considering where they left things before the whole Bram Castle debacle, but he figures _boyfriend_ is on the other end of the spectrum from where the son of Jupiter considers them.

Plus—being in the so-called City of Love just makes Jason antsy.

“He’s just—he’s been like this for a while,” Jason explains, and he holds Nico close. “Last night I couldn’t even touch him.”

They stare at him again, expectantly.

“Not like that,” Jason quickly corrects, and his pale cheeks go from a light pink to a flustered scarlet. “I just—I need to be able to protect him until he wakes up.”

And probably for a while after that, too. Jason doesn’t think he can beat himself up enough over this.

“Well,” says the second aurae. She taps her cheek. “Your main issue is going to be _that._ ”

She points to _that_ —which is the bright circle in the sky. The sun.

“Heat makes water evaporate,” supplies the first aurae.

Jason stares up into the sky with tired eyes, puzzled. Clouds decorate the horizon in fat tufts, and sunlight gleams through the opening like painted beacons over the horizon. Something tells him not getting caught in the sun’s orbit would be impossible in Nico’s current state.

“So I need to avoid sunlight,” Jason affirms, his voice filled with a reluctant disdain. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue for him—but Jason’s not sure how many games of Cloud Tag he can play today. Not when they still need to cross the Atlantic. Next to putting Nico in a duffel bag, he’s not quite sure what to do.

The third aurae gasps with delight. “I have an idea!”

*

They end up in a cave owned by two cyclops and a naiad. The naiad squeals in delight, hooking arms with the first aurae—Tassie—after Tassie explains her exquisite idea.

“So we’re cave-sitting,” Jason says slowly, Nico still nestled tightly in his hands. He hasn’t let go since they shadowtraveled to the outskirts of a small French town. “While you guys enjoy spring break.”

One of the cyclops nods with delight. “Peter never gets to go anywhere! Peter always stuck at home, taking care of Liter!”

Liter nods sympathetically. “Liter has abandonment issues.”

Jason stares in tired disarray. The cave is nothing more than a pile of rocks and a flat surface that looks like it’s been used to prep food. There’s a textbook bigger than Uncle Gleeson that looks like it’s never been touched. He looks over to the old satyr—who is currently being fawned over by the remaining two cloud nymphs, Cassie and Lassie.

Uncle Gleeson lavishly waves around his wedding ring while he gets fussed over. He makes eye contact with Jason, and shrugs with a face that says, _Works for me._

“Do not break anything!” warns Peter. “Make yourself at home and crush anything that you like!”

Jason sets Nico down on the flat surface and peers outside the cavern. The cave is sequestered behind a forest of trees, with a haze of mist above them.

“Be sure to cover the floor with dirt at night,” instructs Liter. “Dirt is good for cold feet!”

At the mention of that, Uncle Gleeson actually perks.

“Okay,” Jason settles on—and the answer alone seems to sweep the zap of his energy. As he sits down, a heavy weight of exhaustion follows.

Peter the cyclops toddles over to him, dressed in an XXXXXL pullover made of chainmail. He gives Jason one giant with approval. “A kind-scented demigod! A son of Hades, to boot!”

Cassie the aurae gasps. “A _son of Hades_?”

“I had no idea!” exclaims Lassie, and the edge of Jason’s lips curl into a tired smile.

“I get that a lot,” he says. Instead of looking dreadful, they all stare at him with curiosity. “Thanks for being kind monsters.”

The aurae still stare at him peculiarly—maybe wondering why a son of Hades would hang around a golden son of Jupiter. Then—much like other magical creatures, they seek out their own musings. In this case—two fraternity Cyclops and a sorority nymph ready to party in France for spring break.

“Remember!” Liter shouts. “You break anything, you buy it!”

“I’ll keep these two cupcakes in line!” Uncle Gleeson reassures, and he swings his silver baseball bat around haphazardly.

Finally, the monsters leave, and Jason rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“ _Mammina_ …”

Jason whips around immediately. Nico lays there, eyebrows furrowed but eyes still very much closed. His eyelashes twitch for the briefest moment, lips pressed into a firm grimace—then nothing. Nico tenses for just a brief moment and remains limp.

A haggard sigh leaves Jason’s lips. “I should change his bandages.”

He turns around and catches Uncle Gleeson’s eye.

“No more dirt,” he begs. “We need to keep the wounds clean.”

“Well, obviously, kid.” Uncle Gleeson frowns, one hand planted on his hip, and points to the gray sky. “It’s gonna rain at any moment. What do you want me to do—put _mud_ on him? That’s bull pucky!”

“Then we’re in agreement. No more dirt.”

Uncle Gleeson nods. “At least not until the morning.”

“That’s right, not until—no—not at all!” Jason’s voice echoes off the cavern walls—and again, he sees Uncle Gleeson wince.

The old satyr looks at him, his goatee starch as his lips press into a solemn line, and he stares glumly back at Jason. “I’m just trying to help, kid. You need it.”

“I’m fine, Uncle Gleeson,” Jason reassures quietly. He peers outside the cave, where the Athena Parthenos is perched between two long trees like nature’s queen. “It’s your turn to rest. I’ll keep watch this time.”

Uncle Gleeson stares at him doubtfully—but there’s no hiding the worried bags under his eyes. They’d appeared in the middle of the Argo II’s journey to Epirus, and only grew with the worry of Mellie giving birth to a fatherless child.

“You wake me up the _moment_ you sense danger,” Uncle Gleeson warns—and Jason offers the tiniest smile.

“Got it,” Jason reassures.

Within minutes, Uncle Gleeson is curled into a ball and snoring against the cavern walls—leaving Jason alone with his thoughts.

The worst place to be.

Jason rubs his forehead tiredly and returns to Nico’s side. Keep Nico away from sunlight. Jason takes to changing Nico’s bandages and wipes the other demigod’s face clean of dirt. He pauses as Nico shivers—and reaches to touch the other demigod’s forehead.

Hot. Burning hot.

“A fever,” Jason whispers—which has to be a side effect from the ambrosia and unicorn draught. The line, where magical healing items ended, and mortal healing began. “Okay.”

He could handle this. Kids got fevers at camp all the time. All of the year-rounders who didn’t have a mortal parent to take care of them. Nico was hardly any different. Hopefully.

“One healing step at a time, Jace,” he whispers to himself. “That’s how you taught swordfighting.”

Jason takes what precautions he can, gently placing the backpack once more beneath Nico’s head and jacket over Nico’s shivering form.

He finds a rope somewhere in the cavern den—and ties it between the two of them, just in case. The clouds hum in the background with the quiet rumble of soothing thunder, accented with Uncle Gleeson’s own snores.

“It’s just you and me, Nico.” Jason stares at the rope that binds them—and waits.

*

He doesn’t sleep when it’s his turn to rest—Jason just lays down, one hand curled against the rope on his stomach. Occasionally—Nico mutters something in his sleep, but for the most part is quiet. Jason stares at nothing else but the rise and fall of Nico’s chest, and listens carefully for that pulse, until he has it memorized. Uncle Gleeson goes into the nearby town and gathers food and more medical supplies at Jason’s insistence—and of course, returns with twice the amount of gardening equipment.

There’s one instance, where Jason’s head duck and he closes his eyes.

He opens then when the rope grows taut—and is met with the sight of birds trying to drag Nico out into the rain by his shirt.

“Uncle Gleeson!” Jason shouts—and the old satyr snaps awake from the campfire. Nico’s head lulls to the side, in deep slumber while countless birds attempt to drag his body out of the cavern. As Jason gets close, the birds suddenly squawk in a cacophony of chirps.

“Uh, Kid!” Uncle Gleeson shouts. “The birds say they’ll shoot if you don’t let their boss go!’

“Shoot with _what_?” Jason cries—and he quickly gets his answer. Three birds suddenly give their comrades a Roman salute and launch toward Jason like torpedoes. He raises an arm—but Uncle Gleeson is quick to get in front of him. “Uncle Gleeson! Don’t hit the—”

_WHACK_

“Looks like you’re having chicken for dinner tonight, cupcake!” Uncle Gleeson shouts. “A good source of protein!”

He goes to whack a second bird—and Jason is quick to yank the old goat behind him.

“Hey!” Uncle Gleeson scowls. “I’m protecting ya!”

Rain splatters the ground outside the cavern, accenting the army of birds on their retrieval mission. As Jason gets close, another dozen chatter threateningly and prepare to launch.

Jason’s exhaustion gets the better of him.

He reanimates the dented bird on the ground, perching it right on top of Nico’s chest. The dead bird moves in jaunty steps, one wing staggering in the air and the other crooked.

Suddenly the birds halt.

“Tell them to stand down,” Jason orders. His dead bird salutes with its good wing and trills in a minor scale.

“That’s a dirty mouth on that one,” Uncle Gleeson grumbles behind Jason.

The army of birds suddenly halts—and the leader walks across the length of Nico’s torso like the epicenter of a battlefield. It chirps menacingly, then does the bird version of a scowl in Jason’s direction.

“What’s it saying?” Jason turns to Uncle Gleeson’s face—who looks offended.

“They’re calling you the Killer,” Uncle Gleeson says nonchalantly. He waves his bat around menacingly—and more birds falter under his power. “That was _my_ kill! It’s all about natural selection, you cuckoo birds!”

“Uncle Gleeson, you’re an herbivore.” Jason crouches to the ground, and the head bird on Nico’s chest hisses menacingly at him. That’s a new one. “Please—he’s feverish. I don’t know what’s going to happen to him if you take him out there.”

The dead bird hops from side-to-side, trilling Jason’s message in a continuous minor chord.

Cuckoo birds, Uncle Gleeson called them. Jason isn’t familiar with birds himself—not by sight alone. But he knows _that_ bird. He finally recognizes that particular look of disdain—when Hera called for _stellina_ , and Bianca came forward with a sword in one hand and Jason in the other.

Of all times for that motherly instinct to kick back in.

The head bird sneers at him somehow. Jason, the Killer.

“Not this time,” Jason promises. “I saved Olympus. Let me save her son, too.”

It’s the oddest stare down. Jason is at the mercy of a bird no bigger than the palm of his hand. Finally—the bird concedes—taking its army with it. Jason sighs in relief—and the undead bird falls limp to the ground beside him.

“Wow,” Uncle Gleeson remarks. “I think you had an easier time with the cyclops yesterday, kid.”

Jason scoops Nico back in his arms, this time double knotting the ropes between their torso. “You’re not wrong, Uncle Gleeson.”

He inspects Nico’s wounds—which is practically routine now. Jason checks Nico’s temperature, changes the bandages on his arms, torso, and leg, and wipes topsoil from the soles of Nico’s feet.

Uncle Gleeson pipes up after a long minute. “You gonna eat the bird?”

*

On the third night, Jason accidentally falls asleep.

He’s a spectator, watching his six-year-old self under the warm hue of the Long Island summer sun with the Camp Halfblood pegasi stretched across his tiny torso. The wooden sword in his hand is small—perfect for his tiny self. The beginner’s class, Chiron had explained to him. A good fighter is a good instructor. And a good instructor makes for a good leader.

Little Jason walks the length of their small arena, trotting to stray demigods that have loose straps or hold their wooden swords pointedly.

He scampers over to the Stoll Brothers and touches Travis’s arm.

“You’re gonna take an ear off,” Little Jason warns—and Travis only laughs—light as the summer heat.

“Spoil of war!” Travis shouts, and the entire Ares Cabin lights up with his claim.

Little Jason catches sight of their newcomers—Annabeth Chase and Luke Castellan. Luke casts a thousand-watt smile that made little Jason’s heart flutter. Still does, sometimes.

“How’s she look?” Luke asks after fitting seven-year-old Annabeth’s armor to her. She peers back at Jason like a little sister exasperated by her big brother’s doting—and Jason hides a smile.

“She looks good.” Then, little Jason turns his attention to Luke, and he fiddles with the wooden sword at his hip. “Um. Your chestplate’s on backwards.”

“Oh.” Luke startles with more surprise than Jason expects. He’s quick to undo the straps—and despite the awkward notion, only warms with his smile. “Thanks, little guy.”

Little Jason flushes and scampers back to the front of the class. He clears his throat, wooden sword in hand, and stands as tall as he can. “Welcome to Swordfighting 101.”

All eyes are on the six-year-old Jason as he parries and thrusts against a hay dummy. It’s a strange feeling—but Chiron gives him an approving look from afar. Older campers look on encouragingly from spectator seats. Present-day Jason sits in the front row—and remembers very clearly how silly he felt.

“How about a demonstration?” Chiron suggests. “Any volunteers?”

Luke’s hand is higher than the rest. Suddenly little Jason couldn’t remember the basics.

Then, little Jason is parallel with the new son of Hermes, whose blithe personality and charm just radiates in his smile. Luke gestures to his helmet—and says something the rest of the audience can’t hear.

“Hope this is on right,” present-day Jason recalls, and it’s a bittersweet ache in his chest.

Luke lunges first. Little Jason almost doesn’t notice past that smile. He parries as Luke strikes—and is quick to disarm the son of Hermes. Luke’s wooden sword goes flying to the left—and he stares back at Jason, taken aback.

“Oh,” is all Luke says. Then Luke turns his head to Chiron. “So this is why he’s teaching the basics.”

‘He’s the best one in his class,” Chiron says.

“Sorry,” Little Jason says—which makes Luke grin.

Luke jogs to grab his sword—and again, he readies himself to square off against Jason once more. “Again?”

Little Jason looks to their camp director for approval, and the puzzled centaur nods in agreement.

The second time, Luke lunges again. As little Jason parries, Luke copies his move and reaches to disarm him. Jason startles as his sword flies out of his hand. Chiron stares at the both of them—and the surprise is apparent. It’s apparent through the entire arena.

Jason remembers feeling antsy.

Luke stared at the six-year-old, his lips upturned into an elfish smile—worriless. Excited. “How’d I do?”

“One more time,” little Jason declares—and he scampers off to collect his sword, leaving a proud Chiron in his wake.

The last and final fight has little Jason gripping the hilt of his sword even more tightly. He parries and thrusts—but he also bobs and weaves. This Luke—the one that has only been at Camp Halfblood for a week at best—is unrefined, but he’s a quick learner.

There’s a reason why little Jason thought anything was possible, with Luke on their side.

Six-year-old Jason is a little braver—a little more focused and having a little more _fun_ than the way Chiron teaches him. And Chiron, the great teacher of demigods—is nothing less than impressed.

There’s a moment, where Luke swings the wooden sword at him, and little Jason falls to the ground. Little Jason’s instincts take in—and he swings his sword at Luke’s Achilles’s.

Everything changes.

No seven-year-old Annabeth. No Travis Stoll, one strike away from lobbing off Connor’s ear. No Chiron, basking at the fruits of his tutelage.

Just Jason—sixteen-year-old Jason—staring down at the dead form of Luke Castellan.

“No,” he whispers. Jason’s hands go limp—and out of his hand falls the celestial bronze knife. He chokes on a breath.

“ _HE HAD A CHOICE!”_ screams a voice to the left of him—tear-ridden. Annabeth.

“You’re a killer,” says another voice to the right—and Jason’s knees wobble. Fourteen-year-old Luke—Jason’s _favorite_ Luke—stares at him from the right, clutching his side as the blood oozes from him with a morbid look of disdain.

“No,” Jason breathes again—and he looks down—

—to Nico, bleeding out in front of him.

“No, no, no—” Jason stutters— _begs._ “I healed him—”

“You’re a killer,” says Luke again.

“You’re a killer!” sobs seven-year-old Annabeth.

“You’re a **killer! You’re a killer! You’re a _killer_!” **chants the voices around Jason—all of them, who fell during the Battle for Manhattan.

“You’re not a killer,” Bianca says—and suddenly, Jason is a spectator again, watching from a wooden bench as his six-year-old self dives for Luke’s ankle. She stares at him with her vast blue eyes. “That’s not the whole story, Jace. You know that.”

She stares at him expectantly—and for the first time, Jason thinks she looks more like Nico than the other way around—affirmative and reassuring, but not as bitter as Bianca had grown after that day in the Labyrinth.

Six-year-old Jason stops himself. He stares from Luke’s feet instead—and his cheeks burn the brightest hue of pink while Luke laughs—the instinct to _fight_ not as ingrained in his brain.

“Whoa there, killer,” Luke says—and he reaches out with a hand. “How about we call it a draw?”

Chiron gives a look of approval, smiling. “You won’t be in the beginner’s class very long, Luke.”

“Cool,” Luke says, and his grin exudes a benevolent warmth. “I want to know what _he_ knows.”

Little Jason stares up at him—and in the front row, Jason can see his younger self blushing.

“I got carried away,” little Jason whispers.

For all of the embarrassment that shows on his face, Chiron looks more pleased than ever. “You fight with the instincts most Greek heroes could only _envy_ , Jason. We’ll refine that.”

Refine that, they did. The goosebumps on Jason’s own arms rise, and he feels sick to his stomach.

“You were cute back then,” Bianca coos. She reaches to pinch his cheek—bright and filled with light, despite the bloody deaths from moments ago.

“I still had him back then,” Jason says quietly. From the corner of his eye, he notices Bianca staring at him, her smile soft and gaze sharp.

“ _You_ stopped yourself,” Bianca says.

“Not the last time,” Jason says—and everything else around them changes—like first sunlight after a heinous storm. They sit atop Halfblood Hill, and Jason is reminded of the day she left, too. The moon is full in Jason’s dreams—and the air is solemn. They’re close, he remembers. Bianca’s birthday was only a month away before she swore her life to the Huntresses instead.

When they took her away from him.

Bianca touches his hand—and her graze is as gentle as the edges of a feather against wind. “You were protecting Annabeth—”

“You weren’t there for that,” Jason points out—and he notices her hand slowly recoil. He stares back at her—at the silky braid in her hair, and the sheen of the silver parka around her shoulder. She’s effortlessly poised and beautiful like the Queen of Olympus herself—and so far from the little girl who asked what would happen if she walked outside of the Big House.

There’s sadness in her eyes. He’d felt it in her spirit, too—right at the brink of death.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

“It’s fine,” Jason says. Fine and done. “Your brother told me the same thing.”

It’s in dream alone that Jason can mention the di Angelo siblings in tandem. He thinks of the early days at Camp Halfblood, after Hazel’s wake. How she walked the stark space of Cabin One, decorated only by the bleak statue of the King of the Gods—and while she coped with her new expectations—daughter of Zeus, champion of Hecate—Hazel sought answers at a door that was already closed. Another door opened when they went to New Rome that first time—

And it set both of them on a new path, with Nico di Angelo wedged between them. Dad was right, Jason thinks. Death bring a crossroads for many. Maybe that was why Hermes was a psychopomp—he needed to guide the dead to the throne of the Underworld—and forge a new path for the living.

Bianca’s eyes glitter the way they used to when she would miss her little brother. If Jason didn’t know better, he would’ve thought she was alive. That Kronos never happened, and he and his best friend could find solace in the fact _they_ were family, after the passing of both their mortal parents.

“He’s a smart one,” she says. “Always was.”

Jason’s chest aches.

He thinks of his fuzzy-minded brain, laced with Kelli’s charmspeak. His body had moved by itself—reflexive and instinctive, as though he never took a break from fighting. The muscle memory was there—more honed and refined than the day he went for Luke.

He broke just as easily, looking at the blood as it gushed from Nico’s leg. His body moved before his brain could.

“You didn’t kill him,” Bianca repeats, like before.

“I could have,” Jason reasons. “You weren’t there, either.”

Bianca stares at him.

“Sorry.”

“You’re a hard one to find in all of this darkness,” she says. She crosses her arms and stares at him, her braid cascading down her shoulder. Her silver quiver glimmers against her back, and Jason’s chest ache. “Where are you, Jace?”

“I’m—Paris?” Jason answers—though he isn’t sure that’s what she’s asking. He stares at her and touches his forehead. “I don’t know.”

Hades’s blood raised the dead corpses of his friends. Camp Halfblood’s tutelage made him kill Luke.

Bianca’s right. Jason’s not sure where _Jace_ is.

“You’re always going to protect people,” Bianca soothes—and she brushes her thumb across his knuckles. “You’re good, Jason. You.”

Jason’s chest aches. “I couldn’t save you.”

The edge of her lip twitches, looking as wry as her brother’s. “That was never going to be your battle.”

His battle was always going to be the final one. Slaying Kronos, killing Luke.

There’s an echo of barking again, as though Jason is standing at the entrance of the Underworld. He hears the deep howl of hellhounds—and his mind is quick to fly to Cerberus, the guard to his father’s realm.

“When are you going to stop haunting me?” Jason whispers. He opens his eyes slowly and is met with the pristine glow of her eyes past the luminescence of Artemis’s moon.

“Haunting?” Bianca’s lips spread into a smile. “Who says I’m haunting you?”

Jason wakes up.

*

Percy calls on the fourth day.

It’s calm, at first. Jason sweeps out a pile of crumpled rocks Uncle Gleeson uses as target practice and changes Nico’s bandages. He finds another clump of dirt between Nico’s toes—and can’t tell if it’s from the cuckoo birds retrieving twigs while he isn’t looking, or from Uncle Gleeson trying to sneak Nico into another trench while Jason is distracted. It ends with Jason advising the old satyr to go back into town to get more medicine.

He's ragged. Something’s coming for them soon. Jason knows it. For as many good monsters as there are in the world, it just takes one conversation with Gaea or Kronos or whatever Big Bad to turn them. Hopefully, most of them are partying on some beach somewhere for spring break.

Nico still hasn’t woken up and his form is hazy. Every time his breath hitches, Jason worries.

“Bianca?” Nico whispers one instance—and the broom drops from Jason’s hands.

He goes to Nico’s sleeping form immediately—and hates how small Nico looks compared to days prior. No other utterings or musings from the unconscious son of Jupiter—just a scrunched up face.

Suddenly, a cloud appears near Nico’s form, and Jason desperately goes through all of the other steps of the rain cycle in his head—until he hears Percy’s voice. _“Nico_?”

Jason stares at the hazy image longer than he intends—until he remember Iris Messages are a thing. Sea green eyes are looking in every which direction of the dark cavern—and suddenly, Jason remembers he hasn’t been around people very much, either. He doubts yelling at cuckoo birds and playing tug-of-war with Uncle Gleeson over Nico’s body count.

“Nico’s here,” Jason reassures—and his own voice sounds tired. Almost unrecognizable to himself.

Percy’s gaze narrows at the sound of his voice—eyes wide—and suddenly they’re dangerously narrowed at Jason, too.

Jason’s pulse races.

_You didn’t kill him_ , Bianca’s voice rings, and the back of his neck tingles.

He expects Percy to yell. To rage, to swear, to try and punch him again through the Iris Message. Instead, Percy is cool in his assessment—Nico flat on his back, covered in a clean set of bandages and in a deep slumber.

_“What happened?_ ” Percy asks instead—voice calm, but tight.

The details spill from Jason’s mouth in a quiet mumble—he’s not sure if he’s even explaining them properly. Transylvania. Bram Castle. Empousa. Charmspeak. Jason…being charmspoken—

_“We were hoping you guys would be in the States by now,”_ Percy cuts him off—and his voice is as tired as Jason feels. More pointed—and somehow much more pragmatic than Jason has felt in the last couple of days.

"The charmspeaking took a while,” Jason explains softly, and he staggers as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He prepares for a snarky remark from the son of Neptune.

But— _“It happens_ ,” Percy says, and he grows quiet. Bags line the bottom of his eyes, and his eyebrows scrunch in a way that Jason has seen in the last few days with Nico. Percy looks as ragged as Jason feels, his hair a mess and purple shirt on backwards. The back of Percy’s room is smooth—and Jason can only guess the Argo II is currently in the air.

“How’s the crew?” Jason asks. “How’s my sister?”

Percy looks like he’s holding back a comment—but nods. _“As good as we can be while trying to make it to Gaea. But—better, with Thalia and Reyna onboard.”_ As an afterthought, he adds, “ _Way better without the eidolons aboard._ ”

Ah. Jason tries for a smile as he touches his forehead. “I take it that’s why you’re not yelling at me right now.”

The other demigod stares at him poignantly. _“I told you to keep him safe._ ”

“I know,” Jason says. “I’m sorry—”

_“It happens. Shit happens_ ,” Percy corrects, and he lets out a frustrated sigh. _“There wasn’t supposed to be a war against the Greeks and Romans, and Leo shot a ballistae at our home. Thal and Rey weren’t supposed to fall into Tartarus. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with charmspeak. Nico’s well-equipped for it. Shit happens._ ”

He says this with a wry calmness that wakes Jason up a little bit. Jason stares back at Percy—at the dullness of his eyes and the crooked line where his lips sit. It isn’t exactly a smile—but a caustic fact that the son of Neptune has fully accepted.

No matter how prepared you could be for a quest, something was going to go wrong. Nico already accepted that when they lost the scepter, while Jason was awkwardly prancing around that subject. _Stay focused_ was Nico’s advice.

_Loyalty_ is what Percy taught Nico. Jason learned already what happened if you lost the son of Neptune’s trust—for how briefly he had it. He thinks Percy is being cool-headed in comparison to all those months ago. Even on the Argo II, Percy was losing it with both his praetors having fallen. Right now, Percy is staying focused on the endpoint—Nico is safe.

“That’s very pragmatic of you,” Jason notes quietly, and Percy lets out a bitter laugh.

_“I just want this to be over, Grace,”_ Percy says—and the exasperation is apparent. The intonation is something Jason is familiar with. They struck a chord when they first met—and sung the same key when it came to taking care of Hazel.

He wonders what life would be like—if Percy slayed Kronos instead. If Percy had to deal with Luke and Bianca, and took that _shit happens_ attitude with him.

Jason catches Percy’s gaze behind him— _at_ Nico—and for all of the semi-reassuring words the son of Neptune gives, his frustration is clear. Jason hesitates—he’s not sure Percy is ready to hear what the last few days have entailed—starting with the three sorority aurae who went on spring break with some cyclops.

“Nico wouldn’t want you to worry about him,” Jason says—which ends up being the straw. He’s had bad luck picking his words as of late.

Because Percy suddenly snaps, and Jason gets a clear sight of what _loyalty_ means to the son of Neptune—deep and absolute protection of all of his friends. “ _How could I **not** worry? He’s been asleep for four days!” _

Jason tries to find the right words—but they failed him in his dreams with Bianca, failed him with Uncle Gleeson—and honestly, they failed him with Nico, too. Maybe if Jason carried on as much grace as his last name suggested about _Hera_ and _Mammina_ , things could’ve gone a little differently.

Luckily—something puts them at a standstill. Nico’s voice. “Four days _?!_ ”

*

Jason doesn’t sleep much on the fifth night—even with knowing Nico’s fever is broken. When dawn breaks, he wobbles to his feet and begins making preparations for the next jump. He takes what he’s learned in the last couple of days thanks to Percy, Nico, and Uncle Gleeson. Focus. Move on. Shit happens. Be a protector.

He hesitates as he checks the leather-bound gladius given to him by Percy—the one that had been wiped clean of Nico and empousai blood—but something Jason hasn’t wielded since Bram Castle.

Always a protector, always his duty. Jason grabs the sword and secures it to his back.

When the sky becomes bluer than orange, he thinks he hears Percy’s voice in the cave. Jason has secured all of their food and medical supplies—and he maps out the next jump in his head. Percy was right—they should’ve been in the States by now.

They would’ve long beat the Romans to Camp Halfblood, if he hadn’t lost the scepter in Pompeii.

By the time Jason is done, he hears Nico hobbling from behind.

“You didn’t sleep last night.”

Nico’s bright and alert now, much more mobile than before. Many of the cuts on his arms have faded thanks to the unicorn draught and ambrosia—but the leg wound remains. It’s bitterly tragic, Jason thinks—that a metal meant to defend a demigod also caused more damage than the vampire ladies.

Again, Jason is on autopilot. He drops to his knees and inspects Nico’s leg. “How are you feeling?”

“You didn’t answer me.” Nico staggers back—stumbling, and Jason catches him.

“Don’t put too much weight on it,” Jason instructs—and he pauses, as he notices Nico’s gaze fall to his hands—wrapped probably a little too firmly over those lithe shoulders. He peels them away slowly and lets out a tired breath. “I—had a hard time falling asleep.”

Nico stares at him curiously—like the last four days of unconsciousness and one-sided brawl didn’t happen. There isn’t one begrudging flicker in those eyes. “Nightmares?”

Jason hesitates. He inspects the Athena Parthenos one last time—and he can’t tell if the cuckoo birds are flipping him off or saluting Nico. “Yeah, some weird ones.”

“Tell me about it,” Nico mutters in agreement—and the air is awkwardly light. Days before, Nico was avoiding Jason. Saving Uncle Gleeson brought them together—but now, Nico is putting his weight on his gladius while the old satyr is still snoring in the cave.

“We’re at the edge of France,” Jason says. “I think I can get us to Maine in one jump. We could be in Camp Halfblood before the end of tomorrow.”

Nico stares at him curiously. “What about the huntresses?”

Jason hesitates. “I’m okay if we don’t get them involved. Orion might not even be a problem if we can get to Long Island in time.” 

There’s silence for a moment, while Nico digests this bit of info. “Are you sure you can make it?”

“We have to.”

“Jason, you haven’t changed.”

Jason pauses—unsure of what to do with that information. Then he stares down at his shirt, which is drenched in sweat and dried blood. Nico’s blood—and a good amount of dirt, too. The last few days had been spent eating and healing—with little room for sleep. Jason hasn’t liked the dreams he’s had.

“I’m fine,” Jason reassures, and his hands curls against the rope. “We’ll get there, Nico.”

Nico takes his explanation doubtfully.

They eat before they leave. Nico scarfs down four days’ worth of food while Uncle Gleeson packs all of the topsoil Jason insisted on leaving behind, and Jason props himself against a wall, trying to keep himself awake. He doesn’t notice Nico’s eyes on him.

“You said Bianca was in Tartarus with you. Right?”

Jason pauses. He wakes up as best he can and peers back at Nico in surprise. Nico’s gaze is bright and far more cognizant. His leg is propped up, still not fully healed. His eyes are vast and blue—just like his sister’s, and Jason remembers just how much the di Angelos resemble each other.

“I hallucinated her, yeah,” Jason says groggily—and his chest grows tight. “Why?”

Nico is reluctant—but it isn’t as steely as before. He fiddles with the bread in his fingers and his gaze lingers on his tattoo. Jason tests the waters.

“You mentioned her name in your sleep yesterday,” Jason says quietly—which grabs Nico’s attention again.

“Yeah,” Nico agrees. His lips twist into a grimace, but he doesn’t elaborate. “She was in my dream.”

“A bad dream?”

“A dream,” Nico repeats, and he smiles tiredly. Not good, or bad—but if Jason has to suspect, it wasn’t a boring dream, either. “I…know you said you just hallucinated her, but what are the chances she got out before the Doors were closed?”

Jason stares at Nico, unsure of what he expected to see. Nico is suddenly feigning interest in his bandages instead, but his ears are perked.

“No,” Jason says. “Not likely.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because when I screamed her name in Tartarus, no one showed up.” Jason sits straighter near the campfire and touches his forehead. He peers back to Nico—and notices as the sandwich in Nico’s fingers slowly falls to his lap. The son of Jupiter stares at him, startled—and Jason grimaces. “Sorry.”

“No,” Nico quickly says, and he shakes his head. “Sorry to bring that up. I’m sure it isn’t good for you.”

“It’s fine.” Jason’s done a lot of things that hasn’t been good for him as of late. He’s not even sure what that really means. His fingers graze his forehead once again, and he slowly stands to his feet. “Even if she did, Thanatos would just take her soul back to Elysium. Her death was final. Besides—Huntresses swears their final breath to Artemis. It’s not my place to anger a goddess. I—I try to avoid their spirits if I can.”

_Especially_ after last summer.

Nico stares at him once more—as though trying to weigh the situation. Jason supposes it’s spoken with the same air as _cuckoo birds_ and the _mafia_ for the son of Zeus—but Nico doesn’t say much more.

“You’re right,” Nico says quietly—and there’s no anger in his voice. If anything, there’s finality in his voice—and Jason guesses the ball is back in his court to feel weird about Bianca’s death. “Let’s keep moving forward.”

They’re in a strange impasse. Jason helps Nico to his feet—and his grip is firm over the other demigod’s hand. Nico stares at him inquisitively.

“I think unicorn draught is a west coast thing,” Jason says, and he inspects Nico’s wounds maybe a little too closely. “Will should have a better idea of what to give you.”

“Who?”

“The healer. The real one,” Jason says—and he straps himself onto the Athena Parthenos after making sure Uncle Gleeson and Nico are secure. “The best combat medic you’ll ever meet.”

Nico is quiet.

“Thanks again,” he says, “for healing me.”

Jason is so haggard that his brain seems to come to halt at the gentleness of the words. “No problem, Nico.”

Once they’re all fastened in, Jason lets the shadows swirl at their feet. He prays for Maine.

*

They don’t end up in Maine. To quote Percy Jackson once again—shit happens.

Shadowtraveling to Russia from Pompeii was practically child’s play. Somehow—they end up in Puerto Rico instead, and the exhaustion catches up with Jason. They pull upwards from the shadows, but darkness is still in the corners of his eyes as he looks around frantically.

“This doesn’t look like Maine,” Jason mutters under his breath—and those words hardly feel solid on his lips. He searches the area madly—and can’t hide his relief as Nico is in front of him, frowning.

“Has he been sleeping?” Nico turns to Uncle Gleeson.

“He’s been laying down,” Uncle Gleeson says. “You know—between climbs.”

“Between _what_?”

“I’m fine,” Jason insists. “Here—let’s try again. Get strapped in.”

Nico scrutinizes him—and again, it’s in the same way he did when they were in France. Jason can’t see past it—behind those blue eyes, and the little scrunch of his eyebrow. There’s no doubt that the di Angelo siblings are related based on their uncanny resemblance—but Nico does something that Bianca didn’t always catch.

“No,” Nico says, and the tenor of his voice is the same as back then in Croatia.

“Nico,” Jason laments—and it’s a soft, strained murmur. “We’re losing time.”

“Someone’s certainly losing something,” Nico mutters. He turns to Uncle Gleeson. “We’ll rest as long as Jason needs—otherwise the next jump is going to end with someone in a ditch.”

“I’ll get the topsoil ready,” Uncle Gleeson announces—and he scampers to the other side of the Athena Parthenos, where their pack is loaded.

Jason is too tired to argue. Nico’s steps are uneven, but he hobbles both of them to a patch of grass—and slowly lowers himself to the ground. Jason can’t explain why he does it—but he grips on the son of Jupiter tightly, to keep him tethered to the ground.

Nico stares at him, taken aback. “Jason—”

“Sorry,” Jason breathes, and he forces himself to let go. “I’m not—usually I don’t—normally I’m better at this.”

Normally, Jason can take things in stride the way Percy did. He can be focused and direct and focus on the quest, but—he’s exhausted. Hurting Nico was terrifying. Nursing Nico back to health was—a lot. Jason feels like he’s waking up to water around him, in over his head and drowning.

Nico is perched beside him, quiet. “Is this because you hurt me?”

Jason stares back at him with haggard eyes, his brow furrowed together—but Nico’s expression is calm for the both of them.

“I’m not scared of you, Jason,” Nico says, and he suddenly fiddles with the tail end of his shirt. “I’m okay. So go ahead and sleep. You waited for me. I can wait for you.”

There’s certainty in his voice—but it doesn’t outweigh the dread that Jason is feeling. He’s afraid to close his eyes again—to give into that false sense of comfort before everything is taken from him again. Before he _helps_ it get taken away.

Luke is gone because of him. Bianca is gone because he didn’t speak louder than the Huntresses. Annabeth is talking to him again—but it only took the words of one empousa for Jason to start _hurting_ people again and he’s afraid.

“You’re doing it again,” Nico cuts in. “Stop thinking so loud. Sleep.”

There’s discomfort on his demeanor—obviously still unsettled by whatever happened in his dreams. Something has changed compared to a few days ago, when Hera’s name was first thrown out there—and somehow, Jason comes before the Queen of the Gods.

Jason is still restless as he lays down, burning holes into the blue sky.

“I’m not leaving until you get some rest,” Nico chides. His gladius rests across his lap, evidently prepared to battle regardless of his current state.

And slowly—begrudgingly—Jason falls into slumber.

*

This exhaustion reminds him too much of Tartarus. Days on end, walking through the sweltering heat with nothing to protect him but the flesh of his own two hands. The Curse keeps him alive in scrapes against monsters—but that’s it. Alive. Not dead. He teeters that line, staving off dehydration with the River Cocytus, but never quite feeling less anxious.

Negotiating with monsters doesn’t work in Tartarus. Most are sent to the pits of Tartarus because of unrelenting demigods—because demigods are so much easier to hate when they’re waving a sword in your face. Jason’s luck started strong in Tartarus but waned the longer he was in there.

He could stay, he reasoned. Luke was there.

He needed to leave, Bianca reasoned. _Luke was there._

But—there was always that sliver of doubt, picked at by Ahklys when Jason was at her mercy. Bianca left and Luke left—but at least Luke wanted to take Jason with him. Bianca didn’t look back.

So _why_ should he listen to her now, at the brink of death, when she could never hear him?

He could stay, he reasoned—and this time, he pushed Bianca in the far corner of his mind. He failed at finding the Doors of Death. There was finally something out there—something much bigger than Jason could ever fight—that killed him.

Jason could be at peace in death. No more fighting. No more prophecies.

But that’d be too easy. Death only need one stroke—and it’s an easel that is still too far out of Jason’s reach.

Otis and Ephialtes found him. The banes of Dionysus—the first god to care so little about Jason’s fate. The first god to toss him aside to the satyrs with disinterest—because whether Olympus crumbled to the ground or not, Mr. D would still be punished—whether in death or by this camp the God of Wine hated so much.

And while Mr. D cared so little about Jason’s existence, Otis and Ephialtes were fascinated.

“He killed brother Kronos,” Otis mused. _Laughed._

“Look how the mighty have fallen,” Ephialtes giggled. “How lost you are, son of Hades.”

What a silly thing to say, Jason had thought back then. Did _anyone_ know their way around Tartarus?

And they brawled. Olympus may disregard his father, but Gaea wasn’t stupid enough to let the slayer of Kronos free to ruin her plans. They’re crueler than Damasen—who was also swayed from the ways of fighting. Jason gets thrown around, his head slammed into a pile of rocks—and while it doesn’t hurt, it still makes him dizzy. The exhaustion, enhanced by the Curse’s need for energy, makes him dizzy. Starvation makes him weak. Misery makes him insane.

For all the power that Styx grants him, Jason doesn’t feel more mortal and hyperaware of his weaknesses as he does after dipping in her waters.

At some point, his legs give out on him. He kneels, weakened by eons in Tartarus and the quest he ventured alone after Thalia tried to keep him safe, and the giants only laugh.

“Some son of Hades,” laughs one of the giants. He doesn’t know which one.

“Some savior of Olympus,” taunts the other.

Jason is tired.

_Sleep_ , says Luke. All of them.

_Stop giving into him_! Bianca shouts—the twelve-year-old one, the thirteen-year-old one, the fourteen-year-old one—all of the ones who were aggravated every time Annabeth and he tried to turn a blind eye to their favorite son of Hermes. Maybe _that’s_ why she left—because they were already at a losing side of a war where neither of her best friends wanted to _kill_ the enemy.

Being a leader was hard. Jason wasn’t good at it, no matter how many times Chiron forced it upon him—because he didn’t _want_ to be good at it. He wanted to be _normal_ the way Bianca did. Decisions are like crossroads—a good choice and a bad choice, but always a hard choice.

Death could be easy. One final stroke against the easel Jason never wanted to paint. No more fighting, no more prophecies.

_No more Thalia_ , reasoned a different voice in his head. Not Luke’s. Not Bianca’s.

No more Thalia, who didn’t care about his title as the son of Hades, or how Camp Halfblood had raised him. Thalia didn’t _know_ that part of him—but she loved him fully, waiting for her little brother to join her at Camp Jupiter. Jason’s life could’ve been different had Beryl not taken the easy way out.

_Easy_ isn’t right.

“No,” Jason remembers whispering when Ephialtes plucked him off the ground. “No, no, no—put me down, let me go—”

“Shut up, son of Hades,” barked Otis. “You’re ours now.”

_Sleep_ , said all of the torturous Lukes—the ones that Jason promised he’d be _done_ with when Kronos fell. _Die for me, Jason._

“Get out of my head!” Jason had shouted—and for once in his life, he doesn’t _want_ Luke. He wants _life_ , and wants to _live._ He shouts— “ _BIANCA!”_

—because in death, she didn’t leave his side. He _hates_ her for leaving and hates himself _more_ not being able to cling onto all of the good memories. All of those were buried and burned with the funeral pyres when Jason continued to stand alone. He needed to separate everything _good_ that made it so hard to slay Kronos—and made it hard for him to go back to _normal._

Hellhounds bark. _Rattling_ , at the gates of the Underworld, far from the precipice where Hades’s realm and Tartarus meet—but it’s like a white noise that keeps separating Jason from Bianca. Life and Death.

She appears, dressed as Jason remembers her—her Peter Pan-collared dress, brown booties, and silver parka. There’s a circlet crowning her head—and as she nocks an arrow made of electricity.

Otis and Ephialtes are slain easily with two crackling arrows—and Jason sits on the ground, stunned.

“I finally found you, Jace.” A smile curls against her lips, sweet and regal like a queen’s—and Bianca reaches out with a hand.

Jason stares at her hand—calloused from the days she traded a sword for a hunting knife and bow and arrow instead—and looks back at her. “That’s not what happened.”

Bianca’s hand falters.

“Ephialtes and Otis took me to the surface,” Present-Day Jason continues, and he sits straighter against the ground. “I screamed for you, and you didn’t show up. You—you were just in my head. You and Luke.”

She stares at him, the bow and arrow still drawn, and the hellhounds still barking from afar. “You didn’t let anyone in your head, Jason. You stopped letting _anyone_ in.”

“Because it’s more important that they’re safe,” Jason reasons—and he touches his forehead. “That’s more important. Olympus was safe. I did what the prophecy foretold, and you—you died.”

“But I’m here now,” Bianca reasons.

“You’re _dead_ , Bianca. I felt your spirit pass. You didn’t look back.” For once, Bianca didn’t linger in the past when she joined the huntresses. She left all of it behind—Nico, Jason, Hera—everything.

The rejoiceful look from earlier is no longer there. There’s no urging or hope, like the ghost that kept haunting Jason in Tartarus. Instead, this Bianca stares at him, as though she’s truly _looking_ instead of having her head in the clouds.

“I hurt you,” she says.

“It’s fine,” he responds. Fine and done. “Nico’s awake.”

She perks—momentarily distracted by her brother’s name.

“I’m going to keep him safe,” Jason promises. “We’re going to see the end of the war together.”

He’s not sure what to expect. Nico’s name has always saddened Bianca—but he was also the only thing that ever tethered her to Camp Halfblood. Once she was blown out of the Labyrinth, she didn’t look back anymore. She moved forward.

But now—this Bianca stares at him as though she never left. Her skin doesn’t glow with moonlight. Despite the silver circlet and parka, all Jason sees is his best friend dressed in her pretty clothes.

“Together,” Bianca says—but she isn’t echoing him.

Jason stares at her. Truly.

“Was he right?” he asks. “Did you make it past the Doors?”

*

Uncle Gleeson jostles him awake. “Kid—we’ve got an emergency.”

Jason wakes with a start—and his dream is suddenly at the back of his mind. The sky is streaked with orange and yellow hues—but they’re far different from the morning dew of France. He looks around to find the Athena Parthenos—then the look of panic on the old satyr’s face.

It sends Jason into overdrive immediately—and he looks around one more time.

“Where’s Nico?” he asks.

A grimace stretches across Uncle Gleeson’s face—and he slowly hands Jason an envelope. It’s simple and white—but it’s the wax seal that suddenly makes Jason angry.

Jason coils a fist around the gladius at his side. “Guard the statue, Uncle Gleeson.”

A silver seal, etched with a crescent moon and a bow and arrow.

The symbol of Artemis and her Huntresses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long one after an unintended hiatus. Hopefully you guys enjoyed the ride! As always, stay safe!


	12. game of heros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe wrinkles her nose. “He dared to taunt me in my dreams several evenings ago. I heard Gaea instruct him. _'The angel has ascended. Kill the demigod with eyes of daylight and hair of the evening sky.'_ ”
> 
> Both the Queen of the Amazons and Artemis’s Lieutenant stare at him.
> 
> “Oh,” is all Nico can say, and he wrinkles his nose with dread. He can’t help but consider the Fates’ sense of humor in pairing up the King and Queen of the Heavens with the _di Angelos._ “Me."

They were in bad shape. Nico didn’t catch it right away after he woke up—he suspects it’s because he was still coming down from nectar and ambrosia. Coach Hedge held his silver bat closer, ready to swing at any piece of debris that came their way. Jason kept looking around, his expression hardened by a clear lack of sleep. And—Nico couldn’t put a lot of weight on his leg. His movements were a little weaker, and his muscles ached as he gripped his gladius. 

It’s probably why he gets kidnapped by the Huntresses so easily. 

One minute, Nico is urging Jason to fall asleep and instructing Coach Hedge to watch after the son of Hades. 

Uncle Gleeson had flashed him a look, filled with a worry that Nico never would have expected from a faun. “Kid, you just got better. You sure you should be up and about right now?” 

“I need to stretch my legs,” Nico said—and he reluctantly plucked Jason’s hand off his thigh. Jason reaching out for him has eerily become instinctive. Nico’s not sure what happened while he was asleep, but Jason was looking at him differently. 

He’s reminded of what Jason said, when he asked if the son of Hades could wield the scepter. 

_I know what I need to do._

_It’s my duty to protect them_ , he said, when he had to wield the sword again. 

Nico doesn’t like it. How _callous_ Jason sounds, after just a few days. 

“At least let _me_ go, kid,” Hedge says—and he catches Nico staring as Jason slumbers in a fitful sleep. “He was really worried about you.” 

Nico has a vague memory of Jason shaking above him, hands drenched in blood and mumbling to himself. Jason held him close as they left Bram Castle—and clearly wasn’t ready to let go. But—they weren’t going to get anywhere if Jason wasn’t in the right state of mind. 

“I’ll be fine, Coach.” Nico teeters to his feet. He tests the winds around him—the sweet warmth, with the subtle scent of sea salt that makes him miss Percy. “If I’m not back by sundown, come looking for me. Aurum and Argentum will keep you safe.” 

“Pah! Who says _I_ need to be protected?” Coach Hedge huffs. 

“They’ll help keep _Jason_ safe,” Nico corrects himself. “I’ll bring some food back.”

After that, he doesn’t leave much room for protest. Nico takes to the sky, dressed in a horrendous shirt and Bermuda shorts beneath cold praetor armor. The cape bellows behind him in the winds—which is already more familiar to him than the brisk temperatures of the north. 

Puerto Rico might have an Amazon facility. 

Which is as far as that thought goes, before Nico is shot out of the air with a net. 

_“What the—”_ The netting almost clings to his eyes—and suddenly he’s falling out of the air. Nico flails in the winds, plummeting to the ground with a violent gusto—and then he’s caught by someone wearing a stark white jumpsuit.

“Got her,” says the woman with a pleased tone. 

“What are you doing?” Nico snaps, and a ribbon of electricity crackles across his forearm. “ _Let go of me!_ ” 

He chokes as it _burns_ against his flesh. Apparently, the unicorn draught and ambrosia didn’t help with _that_ process. Still-one flicker of electricity is enough to alarm them. Nico sees a flash of silver, then hears: “Knock her out!”

“ _Put me down!_ ” He thrashes in his binds, and the sweat permeates at his forehead.

The girl in silver does something—and suddenly a sharp pain shoots through his arm.

_“Agh_ ,” Nico seethes in pain, and his vision blurs. He looks down just in time to notice the dart driven into the flesh of his shoulder—

And then darkness.

*****

“Thou aren’t a girl.”

There’s a girl staring at Nico when he wakes up. She scrutinizes Nico in a way that reminds him of Reyna when New Rome’s daughter of Bellona first stepped off the boat—cold and regal, and demanding an air of attention. After that, the resemblance ends. In place of what would be Reyna’s wry smile is a frigid scowl.

Despite the warm palette of her copper skin and dark braid, a silver circlet rests at the crown of her head, making her look even more like a princess. From the shoulder down, she’s dressed in warm camo to reflect the tropical weather. He has a feeling it breathes better than his praetor armor.

“Forgive me,” Nico says wryly, and he tries to force himself awake. His head is dizzy and nauseous, and his leg aches. “I wasn’t aware I was a boy.”

“ _Men_ ,” the girl suddenly grumbles, and she turns her head to another girl that’s dressed similarly to her. “When thou _told_ me thou found a demigod flying in the sky, this is not whom I thought thou meant.”

Nico shakes his hands and grimaces at the taut rope against his wrists, a headache growing between his temples. The back of the chair is pressed up against his praetor armor, purple cloak folded neatly on the other side of the room. Nico tries to move his feet, but they’re firmly strapped into the legs of the chair. If he strains his hands enough, the tip of his finger meets his belt loop—but his fingers are still far too hazy to grab his knife.

The girl turns to him and scowls.

“If thou are considering breaking free,” she hisses, “rest assured, we’ve taken appropriate measures. Thy weapons have been taken.”

“I’m relieved,” Nico says. He glares, and—

“Don’t think about shooting lightning either, Son of Jupiter,” she says. “There’s a reason why we chose a _wooden_ chair.”

This time, Nico halts. He furls his fingers together and looks back up, matching the same sneer on the girl’s face. He tries to wrap his head around what she’s said so far—a demigod flying in the sky, him using lighting…Nico only knows a few people who meet that description, and the other one is currently on a boat sailing to Greece. “So you’ve heard of me.”

The girl glares disdainfully at him. “I’m not a fan of thy kind.”

“Men,” Nico guesses, and he tries again with the bindings around his wrists. “You’re one of Artemis’s Huntresses.”

She whips out a knife and drives the tip into the table with a sickening _SLAM._ Nico knows better than to flinch.

“Children of Zeus,” she corrects.

Nico stares at the silver dagger carefully, then back to the other girl, who’s evidently the first one’s righthand. He’s met with a grimace of disgust, and finally concedes. “Sounds like you have the wrong person anyway. Maybe you should just let me go.”

The girl sneers in his direction, pulling the silver knife out of the table to polish.

“Believe me, if it were up to _me_ , Nico di Angelo, we would have never crossed paths,” she snaps. “Unfortunately, there’s someone who is _eagerly_ waiting to greet thee.” 

Nico is still trying to fight off the pounding in his head from getting _drugged_ and _kidnapped_ —on top of this girl saying his name with far too much familiarity.

“I promise you,” Nico reassures, “the feeling’s mutual.”

She harrumphs, nose raising in the air.

Nico doesn’t think anything could improve his mood—not after being tied up to a chair and berated as someone’s second-rate bounty. The door suddenly bursts open, however, and he’s met with the sight of another girl—another person deigned as royalty.

“ _Hylla_ ,” Nico says, and his voice spills with relief.

Hylla, Queen of the Amazons, splits into a grin that makes Nico miss Reyna more. She has Reyna’s polished hair—long and braided, like Nico long remembers, and the sharp look in her eye that always made it easy for Nico to follow her sister into battle.

Except Hylla is older—as old as Thalia should be if the Lotus Casino hadn’t taken years off her life, and her black leather jumpsuit is a stark contrast to the praetor armor and robes that Nico’s grown used to seeing on the youngest daughter of Bellona.

“Not bad, Nightshade,” she says, and she turns to the tiara-wearing girl. They both stand tall and regal next to one another, but Queen Hylla’s energy is less hostile. “I know he’s not the one _you’re_ looking for, but I’m satisfied.”

“Of course an Amazon would be,” Nightshade grumbles—and although they’re both men-hating warrior women, Nico feels more comfortable with the man-enslaving group. She turns her head back to Hylla, demeanor radiating with irritation. “There’s no way this _boy_ is the one _he’s_ after. To have my lady’s bane seeking a _man_ of all things—”

“We’ve established I’m a boy,” Nico quips. “What are the Amazons doing teaming up with the Huntresses?”

Nightshade’s righthand glares at him. “The women are talking.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn,” Nico apologizes sarcastically, “Being _drugged and strapped to a chair_ makes me cranky.”

Nightshade directs her gaze back at Nico, her lips furled into a cold frown. She readies herself, reaching for the silver dagger again, but Nico’s regained enough consciousness that he feels the tips of his fingers crackling with rage—despite the pain. All it would take is some precision lightning—and some strategic winds to blast someone in the face.

Hylla raises a hand to distill the situation. “I don’t think his travel companions would be happy with you if you tried to kill him, Zoe. Especially the Hades boy.”

At the mention of Jason, Nico feels angrier. He’s reminded of the message Jason said he sent to Camp Halfblood—the one to get the Huntresses’ attention and how Jason hoped they wouldn’t need the Huntresses at all if they made it to Maine.

Part of it makes Nico feel better—because that means Jason Grace, son of Hades who still tried to keep a courteous air after getting punched by Percy, _also_ finds Zoe Nightshade irritating.

“The Hades boy,” Zoe grumbles, and she wrinkles her nose in disgust.

“Let us have a moment,” Hylla says, and she pulls up a chair across from Nico. In her hand is a thermos, shiny and new. She pours green tea in a cup and pushes it across the table.

All the while, Zoe glares at them.

“Thou can talk,” she says, “but consider this conversation a waste of time when _He_ aims his arrows at _my_ hunters and _thine_ Amazons whilst seeking a _man._ ”

“I thought you hated me for being a son of Jupiter,” Nico retorts.

“My disdain is boundless,” Zoe snaps. “I plant my feet here, Queen Hylla. And I trust by the end of this conversation, a plan will hath been conceived.”

Hylla looks how Percy described her after the quest to free Thanatos. Tired because the Doors of Death were open. They’ve been closed for weeks now, but her people are still threatened because of the war—much like how Nico’s own family is in shambles because of Gaea.

She doesn’t humor Zoe with a response. Instead, she extends a hand, matching the intimidation of Zoe’s gaze with a glance. Zoe begrudgingly gives her the dagger.

Hylla pauses as she inspects him more closely—at the scrapes and bruises that have lightened after four days. The bandage on Nico’s leg is still prominent.

“I had no idea you were injured,” she notes dangerously, and her gaze flits back to Zoe.

“Scrapes of my own,” Nico reassures—and the protective streak in her eyes makes him miss Reyna a little more. “Was the net necessary?”

Hylla looks unconvinced, which leaves Nico wondering how well the Queen of the Amazons and Artemis’s Lieutenant actually get along. “We compromised. They could grab you in whatever way they saw fit—so long as you stayed alive and we could set up base at my facility.”

Nico rubs the sore spots on his wrists. An Amazon Distribution Center wasn’t as farfetched in Puerto Rico as he thought.

“Thanks for going easy on her huntresses,” Hylla teases—and Nico doesn’t miss the way Zoe Nightshade’s scowl deepens.

“I didn’t know the Amazons and the Huntresses worked together,” Nico notes, and he’s distracted by the worry lines in her brow and the weathered look in her eyes—which both overshadow the warmth of her smile. He reaches for the tea across her table, and her gaze follows.

“We usually don’t,” Hylla says, and she shoots a look at Zoe Nightshade, who’s followed every one of their moves. “Though, Gaea waking up has thrown everything out of order.”

She launches into an explanation of how Amazons and the Hunters have co-existed peacefully, occasionally sending promising young girls in one direction or another depending on whether or not they wanted to swear off men. Nico wrinkles his nose—the memory of Hylla trying to recruit Percy and he as manservants coming to the forefront of his mind. Reyna had hastily said no, grabbing Thalia by the hand back then, too, before Hylla could have her way.

“I see Reyna finally convinced you to step up as praetor,” Hylla notes, and she gestures to the armor that doesn’t quite feel as comfortable since waking up. It’s felt ill-fitted long before Transylvania—but Nico thinks it’s more prominent now. An injured praetor of New Rome— _son_ of Jupiter, no less—sitting in front of both the Queen of the Amazons and Artemis’s Lieutenant.

“Consider me part of the peace treaty,” Nico says, and he eyes the purple cloak sitting on the other side of the room warily. He’s not fond of the idea of wearing it again since it’s how the Huntresses spotted him. “I’ve already lined up my replacement.”

Zoe Nightshade scoffs, unimpressed. “A son of Jupiter, stepping down from power?”

“Camp Jupiter is more than capable without me taking the reigns as leader,” Nico reassures, and he hates how tired the words sound on his tongue.

Nico’s gotten it so many times in the last few years—but no matter how many times Jason tried to coax him into talking about his problems, or how Reyna, Thalia, and Percy insisted that he was meant for this role, he can’t shake the fact this war started between Greek and Roman demigods the moment he donned the cape. 

“It’s an attitude like Nico’s, Nightshade, that let me know my sister was going to be fine at Camp Jupiter.” Hylla’s lips curl with a tired amusement, the twinkle in her eye too similar to Reyna’s. “She’s been trying to get this one to get this one in a position of power since he turned eleven. And what do you always say, little Nico?”

Red blooms in Nico’s cheeks and he bites the inside of his mouth. “I don’t need it.”

This time, Zoe Nightshade stares at him with much more intrigue. There’s less of a furrow to her brow.

“Does that sound like a child of Jupiter to you?” Hylla muses.

“No,” Zoe says. There’s disquiet in her voice as her gaze raises back to Nico. “Thou aren’t like any son of Jupiter that I’ve met.”

“I’m no Hercules,” Nico says—and he watches Zoe’s gaze narrow. “Though you might like my sister. She went toe-to-toe with him recently.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if his father’s renown son had crossed Zoe Nightshade—Nico usually can’t walk three feet on quest before something consequential happens in relation to his dad.

Zoe gives him a look that he’s grown used to now—the one that has always confounded others why he hasn’t taken up a position of power. Jason and Frank were just two of many others who’d asked him why he didn’t care about this role. Then she peers at him more skeptically. It’s hard to tell if her temper has waned.

Hylla exchanges a look between the two of them, bemused by this. “You never told me you had a sister in the Huntresses, Nico.”

His heart aches. Nico’s hands curl at his lap, and his dream of Bianca comes to the forefront of his mind.

Sweet, beautiful Bianca with a voice that Juno hailed as better than any muse.

Bold, brave Bianca in a silver circlet that echoed the one in Zoe Nightshade’s hair and a parka to match. Much taller than Nico ever got to know. The one in her timeless ensemble that made her more than a memory.

As he finds his voice again, Nico reminds himself what Jason said. Jason screamed, and no one showed up. “Because up until a few months ago I thought she died when I was ten.”

Zoe Nightshade’s face darkens again, her lips press into a thin line. Nico’s reminded of that first day when he met the son of Hades—when Jason remorsefully informed him that Bianca had died _recently_ —and not years ago, when Nico mourned her death. Nico thinks he’s at a place where he can finally talk about it with Jason—but Zoe is another story. The way she stares at him unnerves him.

“Strange, isn’t it? What the Fates decide for us?” Hylla remarks softly. “I’m sorry you lost your sister so young, Nico. When I found out my little sister went missing, I thought a part of me had been taken with her. I would have sent my Amazons to the edges of the earth to find Reyna.”

Nico knows the feeling all too well.

“It’s fine. Bianca…she…” Nico swallows hard, glaring at his cup, and furls his fingers over it. “She can’t be replaced, but Reyna has been good to me. All of them have. Bianca would have loved to meet them.”

Fortunately, Hylla is as observant as her little sister and decides not to press further. “Reyna is well then.”

“She is,” Nico confirms, and he relaxes in his seat. “She and Thalia finally kissed.”

Hylla gasps loudly, slamming her fist in the table with gusto. “ _No._ ”

“Thalia said thank you.”

“ _No!_ ” Hylla laughs heartily, which helps settle Nico’s chest. She pours more green tea in Nico’s cup so casually that Nico almost forgets that he was being held hostage. “And to think—all it took was a war for them to start caring about each other.”

“Two wars, actually.” The corner of Nico’s lip curls, and his thoughts wander back to the last time they were all together. Sitting on a picnic blanket outside of the House of Hades was like balancing peace over war at the very tip of a needle. They didn’t have that type of relief going into the war. Not since before Juno swapped Reyna and Annabeth and caused infighting before the war ever started. “And there was another girl.”

Before Hylla can gasp again, Zoe clears her throat. They turn to meet her steely gaze, and she waves her hands in front of her. “ _The plan_?”

“Ah,” Hylla says—and she goes from being a curious big sister to the Queen of the Amazons again. She recomposes herself as Zoe approaches the table. Nico can’t help but frown. “Orion. The bane of our existence as much as he is to Apollo and Lady Artemis.”

She goes into another explanation for Nico—far more explicitly than the one Hades offered Jason. It makes the pit of Nico’s stomach rot as he hears it—the giant was made to oppose the twin archers. Orion took the shattered remains of his own heart and spent millennia killing every Amazon and Huntress as a reminder of the day Artemis spurned him.

To quote Thalia: what a fuckboy.

Hearing the story irks Zoe Nightshade further. She mutters a curse under her breath—then glares at Nico.

“I’ve spent _centuries_ tracking him down to kill him in the name of my lady,” she grumbles. “Centuries, after he dares slaughter my huntresses. And finally, he shows himself instead of watching from afar like a coward. He chooses to take a _boy_ as a foe. I can’t think of a greater insult.”

Nico stares at her quizzically. “I would think Orion _not_ going after your huntresses and Amazons would be a good thing.”

Zoe stares at him sharply. “Dost thou think that centuries of slain warriors and huntresses should be reduced to a _cockfight_?”

If Percy were here, he would’ve laughed at the word _cockfight._ Nico decides not to mention it—he’s gone through several shades of Zoe Nightshade’s moods since the mention of his sister, and now all he wants is to get out of here and back to Coach Hedge and Jason.

“I know parts of Orion’s story,” Nico says instead, and he frowns. “Orion died because Gaea sent a giant scorpion after him. Why would he turn around and _help_ her?”

“Family politics, perhaps,” Hylla says wryly. “Though you’re right. He was made to oppose Apollo and Artemis and chose to befriend Lady Artemis instead. Orion is known for killing our kind. Aligning himself with his mother is far from his usual M.O.”

Zoe wrinkles her nose. “He dared to taunt me in my dreams several evenings ago. I heard Gaea instruct him. _'Th_ _e angel has ascended. Kill the demigod with eyes of daylight and hair of the evening sky.'_ ”

Both the Queen of the Amazons and Artemis’s Lieutenant stare at him.

“Oh,” is all Nico can say, and he wrinkles his nose with dread. He can’t help but consider the Fates’ sense of humor in pairing up the King and Queen of the Heavens with the _di Angelos._ “Me.”

“Thou aren’t a fool,” Zoe says, which is probably the nicest thing Nico will hear from her. He senses less venom in her voice since their first impression, albeit strained. “Thy thoughts aligned with mine. Orion is only interested in killing women. Once I pieced together her words and reflected upon our current circumstances, I thought—"

“You thought it was Bianca,” Nico concludes for her. He doesn’t think he’d like the way his sister’s name would sound from her mouth. Again, he’s not sure what’s showing on his face—but Zoe Nightshade takes extra precaution in scrutinizing him. “Because she was a huntress before she died.”

“Little did I know she had a little brother,” Zoe mutters. “A hero.”

For how much Jason mentioned Bianca fondly talking about Nico, Zoe looks angered that Nico even exists. The list just keeps growing—because he’s a boy, because he’s a son of Jupiter, because he’s Bianca’s brother—and now, because he’s a hero.

Nico’s gaze flits to Hylla for explanation—and she only shrugs.

“What other possibility could there be?” she asks.

He smiles grimly at Zoe. “I try not to bring up my dead sister. It doesn’t make good dinner conversation.”

Hylla mimics the same expression from earlier from when she brought up Bianca. Her demeanor is soft for a brief moment, but she maintains the air of a leader that Reyna has learned so well from her big sister. “Right now, our goals are aligned, Praetor di Angelo. If Orion is slain, you will safely be able to transport the Athena Parthenos—”

“And the huntresses and Amazons will be spared,” Nico finishes.

“What dost thou say, Praetor di Angelo?” Zoe asks with deadpan. “Will thou lend a hand to a woman in need?”

He hesitates. Thanks to him, they’ve already spent too much time in limbo. Moscow, Pripyat, Odessa, Paris—a constant _north_ rather than _west._ Worst of all, none of them are in good shape. Nico stares down at his leg and thinks of Coach Hedge’s words. Jason was worried sick.

Jason _hoped_ they could avoid the Huntresses. _Hoped_ they could avoid Orion.

Nico’s shoulder aches, and he’s starting to understand why—but there’s no doubt that the Huntresses and Amazons on their side would turn the tide of the war.

Good decisions and bad decisions, Jason had said. Never easy decisions.

He thinks of Thalia telling both of them to remain in Camp Jupiter and to steer clear of the Prophecy of Seven. Percy stepping up to save Death. Reyna, choosing to spend a month in Camp Halfblood learning Greek traditions and assuring that Annabeth would appear at Camp Jupiter, when she knew Jason could easily bring her home. 

“Where do we start?” Nico asks.

Hylla tosses Nico’s gladius and cloak to him in one graceful sweep. “Let’s go to the surveillance room. Orion will have to search every corridor to find us. This will give the Amazons and Huntresses the chance to slow him down when he gets here. You will have time to flee.”

“A wise move,” Zoe agrees, and before Nico can protest, he’s being dragged by the hand by Artemis’s Lieutenant. His sword drags against the ground as he hobbles, and she stares at him with far too much judgement.

“Flee?” he repeats—and he catches Zoe’s beady gaze in front of him before she leads him through a maze of corridors. Hylla follows in suit, inspecting a knife of her own. “I thought we charging Orion?”

“Correct, little Nico, _we_ are charging Orion—” Hylla says, and they take a sharp turn into another hallway. “—long enough for you to escape with your friends and the Athena Parthenos.”

“But—”

“We shall use thine scent to guide Orion here,” Zoe says, and she looks over her shoulder. “But the pleasure of killing Lady Artemis’s bane—that will go to a huntress.” ‘

“Or an Amazon,” Hylla reminds her, and Zoe simply rolls her eyes.

Nico’s mind wanders in a series of somersaults and cartwheels to catch up. He sighs. “You already had a plan. You just wanted me to agree to be bait.”

“Correct, little Nico,” Hylla says—and there’s no shame in her voice. “The staunch scent of a son of Jupiter—and a praetor of all things. There’s no doubt that Orion has already caught wind that you’re here. It’s only a matter of time until he rears his ugly head.”

Nico can only wonder how things would turn out if Reyna were here in his place. Maybe she wouldn’t so easily give into Hylla’s whims. Or—maybe she’d be feeling what Nico feels—relieved and exasperated to see the eldest daughter of Bellona.

“ _Time_ isn’t on our side,” Nico protests, and he’s suddenly regretting agreeing to this. “My friends—they must be worried about me.”

Zoe’s expression morphs with disdain the same way it did when Hylla mentioned _Hades boy._ It’s the same brow furrow that Jason had when he reluctantly hoped they would make it to Maine. Nico considered pressing further before, but Jason could clearly only talk about so much comfortably.

“We left an IOT,” Zoe reassures.

“A what?”

Zoe pulls out a piece of parchment paper and unfolds it for Nico.

_I owe thou a Roman Praetor. His disappearance shall be brief. Do not interfere, lest thee intends to be perceived as a threat, Jason Grace. We will not hesitate to kill._

\- _Hunters of Artemis_

Nico hands the letter back to Zoe. “Right. Because this won’t worry them at all.”

“I entrusted as much detail as he needed to know,” Zoe says briskly. “Phoebe has ensured they will be fine. Something about a _stealth_ netting.”

Hopefully it was nothing like the net they’d thrown at him in the middle of the air. Nico rubs his shoulder and tries not to scowl at the lieutenant.

“Your boyfriend and the faun will be safe so long as they sit tight,” Hylla reassures.

Nico freezes. His throat dries and red flourishes in his cheeks, mortified. “He’s—he’s not my boyfriend, Hylla.”

“Really?” Hylla’s interest is piqued, as it did when Nico mentioned Thalia and Reyna kissing. “Reyna mentioned your boyfriend was aboard the Argo II. I only assumed you two left together.”

“My _ex_ -boyfriend.” Nico’s voice cracks. He stares down at his wrist—and realizes the shield Leo had made for him is gone. It must’ve gotten lost in the jump from Transylvania.

“So, thou traveled with an ex. With _Jason Grace_ of all people,” Zoe grumbles with disgust. “How awkward.”

“He’s good conversation, actually,” Nico says, and he can’t help but glare. There’s an innate need in Nico to defend Jason after every look and snide remark that Zoe has had—and this time, Hylla arches an eyebrow in his direction. Nico wants to smack himself. Instead, he continues with, “Coach Hedge is a satyr. He’s not a fan of fauns.”

Finally, they make it to the surveillance room, which dismisses all parts of this horrifying conversation. 

TVs sit high against the walls, while Hylla’s fingers fly over a console to turn each and every single button on. With each click, a TV flickers and Nico catches sight of the fading Puerto Rican sun outside of the distribution center, of the loading dock filled with shipments, and an assortment of Amazons and Huntresses in each camera preparing for attack.

“Confounding mortal technology,” Zoe grumbles angrily, and Nico jumps as he feels her grip tighten. “Were it not the scent of the son of Jupiter attracting Orion, it would be thine infernal devices, Hylla.”

“Don’t worry,” Hylla mutters, “we’re quite the empire. I finally opted for the liability insurance that covers monster attacks. Nico, the Amazons and Huntresses will still slow Orion’s path, if we cannot avenge our sisters. You’ve done well leading him here. We’ll take care of the rest while you escape.”

Nico can only imagine the look Reyna would serve if she were here listening to Hylla prattle on about _liability insurance_ and _slaying a giant_ in the same breath. “You wanted my alliance. I’m not leaving you to fend against him by yourselves.”

Hylla suddenly looks up from her console, and Zoe stares at him oddly. 

“I loathe thine kind,” Zoe says, though her tone has since lost the ire. “Heroes, the whole lot of thee. Gaea awakening threatens Olympus—and will destroy everything Lady Artemis has built for her hunters. Until this war is over, our priorities are aligned, Praetor di Angelo.”

As levelheaded as the words sound, Nico can still hear the heat in her voice intertwined with the familiarity of knowing his sister—and maybe more. His immediate instinct is to lock up and protect himself, like he did when Ambassador Grace played the dangerous game of mentioning Bianca the first time, or with Juno—which is a stress of its own.

“Your own vendetta is against sons of Jupiter,” Nico says. “You’ve met him, haven’t you? Hercules.”

Zoe’s expression is murderous—angrier than when he mentioned Hazel going toe-to-toe with the God of Heroes earlier. But she holds back, her eyes simply flickering with a long, tired emotion. “An arrogant man of a hero.”

“He is,” Nico agrees, which is met with a suspicious gleam from the huntress and a snort from the daughter of Bellona.

Hazel had recounted that story with great disdain when Nico asked about the strange cornucopia that sat in Reyna’s cabin. He thinks it stands as one of the reasons why she plans to be a great hero for herself instead of over other children of Zeus.

“Thou art a strange one, Praetor di Angelo,” Zoe says after the silence holds out for too long. “I trust Hylla’s word, but I’m disbelieving when she tells me there is a child of Jupiter who dismisses power.”

“Not a very _Jupiter_ thing for me to do,” Nico agrees tiredly, and he wonders if she missed the part where Reyna, Percy, and Thalia all offered him praetorship at the young age of eleven.

“No, ‘tis not,” Zoe decides. “But it’s quite like thy sister.”

Nico cocks his head back to the lieutenant. For the first time, Zoe’s frost has thawed, and she lets the familiarity with Bianca di Angelo show on her face. Her lips are pressed together, gaze poised and observant in Nico’s direction. He swallows hard.

“How well did you know her?” he asks.

Zoe sighs. “For a brief period, she was one of my most powerful demigods. But she was not mine.”

Oh.

There’s pain in her expression. “She’d already lain her heart out for another, long before me.”

Nico stares at Zoe in disbelief, and watches as her eyes scan him up and down. It’s less about sizing him up, like earlier. 

“Perhaps in another lifetime, if more heroes were like thee,” Zoe says wistfully, “we wouldn’t live in a wretched world where war is waged. Where arrogant heroes don’t stake the lives of others when recounting stories against dragons and omit their own misgivings.”

Nico isn’t sure what she means about a dragon—but he’s very aware of the way her eyes are lingering. He yanks his hand away, a fluster of a cold flush overcoming his cheeks.

“I like boys,” Nico blurts out, and he’s not sure what else to say to the girl who apparently hit on his sister. “Boys only. But thank you for the compliment.”

Zoe looks appalled, scowling at him with the vivacity of earlier. “Oh, please—I swore off the likes of thou before thou took thy first breath. That has not changed.”

His _sister_ was an exception, and Nico doesn’t think he’s been more mortified in his life.

Hylla clears her throat. Out of nowhere, she throws a backpack in Nico’s direction. “As much as I’m enjoying this fun lover’s quarrel—”

“Please don’t refer to it as that,” Nico says painfully, “Ever.”

“—Reyna would kill me if I didn’t send you off with preparations,” Hylla finishes, and her lips curl into a fond smile.

Sadness rots in Nico’s stomach. Every path he’s taken recently feels like it’s been met with a goodbye. “I want to stay. I don’t intend to leave your Amazons and huntresses out for slaughter.”

Her face is just too much like Reyna’s. She touches his shoulders. “The best leaders are the ones who have faith in their allies, Praetor.”

Right. Like Piper. Jason had made the same claim not too long ago. Nico hadn’t been too happy hearing about it back then, either—but he knows that Jason, Hedge, and he are one of the many cogs that are trying to stop Gaea.

“Okay,” is all Nico can say. He doesn’t know if he trusts himself to muster a better response. “But you _conquer._ Death isn’t an option.”

He’s met with Hylla’s approving smile, so much like the one Reyna gave him the day they swore him in. “You have my word, Praetor di Angelo.”

A huntress appears out of nowhere. She halts at the threshold, face twisting in distaste as she lays eyes on Nico. “Praetor.”

Then she turns her attention to Hylla and whispers something in her ear. Hylla’s expression hardens. “Something is wrong. We’ve lost contact with our outer defenses. Orion must have—”

The entire distribution suddenly quake.

Screams from the security footage snap all three leaders into attention, and their gazes fly to one of the television screens. Metal doors burst open in a heinous symphony of explosions, followed by the roar of angered Amazonians and Huntresses.

Hylla curses loudly. “Orion! He’s already here—”

“No,” Zoe suddenly says, and there’s an angry venom to her tone—angrier than with Nico. “Tis not Orion.”

The smoke suddenly dissipates on screen and—

Nico stares in shock.

—surrounded by a cohort of angry women is Jason.

*

Jason stands in the Amazon loading deck, dressed in new green pants and a pink parrot-patterned tropical shirt. Even from the security footage (on an obnoxiously flashing 4KUHD television screen) Nico can see a red fury in Jason’s cheeks—but the outfit somehow shocks him less than what’s at attention in Jason’s hand: the gladius he wielded back at Bram Castle.

Hylla snaps to attention before Nico can. She slams a hand over a button, and the intercom hisses with white noise. _“Amazons! Do not engage! He is an ally against Gaea!”_

The Amazons on screen visibly perk at the sound of their queen. So does Jason.

The Huntresses do not.

“Jason!” Nico shouts.

Girls in silver camo hurl themselves into Jason, arrows nocked by some and daggers drawn by others. Behind Jason are a dozen skeleton soldiers who join the fray, charging at the girls who charge at their master. And—the act of Jason striking with his sword against a huntress is enough to evoke rage from the aforementioned Amazons, who’ve formed an alliance with Artemis’s soldiers long before their queen announced a ceasefire.

“ _LADIES! DESIST!”_ Hylla screams.

“Call your huntresses off!” Nico shouts in Zoe’s direction—but he notices that the lieutenant hasn’t wavered.

“I told him the consequences,” Zoe says, and it takes all of Nico not to just hit her.

He darts his attention back to Hylla. “Which way to the loading deck?”

Hylla has her dagger equipped, enraged. “Follow me.”

They wind down more hallways and corridors than the House of Hades. Hylla is swift, with Nico at the edge of her feet. He knows that Zoe is close behind, but at this point doesn’t care.

When they make it to the loading dock, Jason is standing below, over a circle of warrior women—all bound by the skeletons. More Huntresses and Amazonians charge at the son of Hades, and Nico prepares to launch himself into battle, his own gladius in hand.

Except—Jason makes swift work. He dodges out of the way of one camo-wearing Huntress and uses enough body weight to push her out of the way. Another skeleton soldier appears and clamors on top of her like ropes made of bones.

Goosebumps bristle against Nico’s skin as cold energy radiates off of Jason. Jason wields the sword in the same manner as with the empousa—but there isn’t charmspeak here. Only Jason.

An Amazon launches at him with a sword, and Jason swings his own imperial gold blade—one swipe, then two, as she blocks—and then he disarms her. The Amazon’s blade goes flying in the opposite direction.

Beside Nico, Hylla is shouting. She clenches her fists on the railing of the balcony. “ _AMAZONS_! Do you ignore your queen?!”

White noise absent, the Amazons suddenly peer up to Queen Hylla. Nico notices Jason’s attention follow in suit—oily eyes locking eyes with him—and his heart skips a beat. The Amazons desist—but the Huntresses press further.

“Jason! Behind you!” Nico shouts. A girl no more than thirteen or fourteen inches close to Jason faster than the words fly out of Nico’s mouth, silver dagger identical to her lieutenant lifted high in the air.

Jason doesn’t have time to dodge out of the way. Nico prepares to launch himself off the balcony as Jason pivots to the right—but the girl manages to strike Jason in the side with her knife—

—which bends on contact.

She lifts her dagger—which once gleamed as straight as an arrow and is now arched at a ninety-degree angle—and pales. Nico almost falls off the balcony out of shock, forgetting to summon the winds.

Jason swipes the dagger out of her hand. Oily black eyes raise to meet Nico’s gaze once again.

Then, Jason melts into the dark silhouette of the Amazon warehouse—and a cold chill runs up Nico’s spine as Jason burst through his shadow, bent dagger in hand and dozens of discarded weapons at his feet.

“Hi, Zoe,” Jason greets—and his voice is so deep and brooding and _chilling—_ that Nico shudders. “You have something of mine.”

Jason tosses the ruined knife at his feet—to join the rest of the busted and bent out of shape swords and weapons. Nico even notices the silver-tipped arrows that are chipped. He can’t _see_ Jason glaring—but he can _feel_ it in the chill of Jason’s tone—and he _feels_ the might of Jason’s powers, like Thalia crushing enemies under a slab of precious metals or Percy drowning a foe in in a tidal wave.

It's more terrifying than Bram Castle.

“Yours, huh?” Hylla mutters, and the amusement is so apparent in her voice that Nico’s face burns.

He doesn’t realize he’s behind Jason until Zoe is stepping toward them. Jason’s hand flies over Nico’s, the touch even colder than usual.

“Did thou not get my note?” Zoe asks wryly—and the hostility of her tone seems to greet Jason like an old friend. “My IOT?”

“I got the note,” Jason reassures, though nothing about his tone is cordial. “I let Uncle Gleeson eat it.”

Nico wants to laugh, but he’s too stunned by the turn of events—and how the grip Jason has around the gladius Percy gifted him is taut and white. He’s seen the Jason Grace that climbed the steps of the Jupiter Optimus Maximus for Hazel and the heartwrenched boy in Split. The one who smiled softly and firmly announced to his praetor sister and the two Fifth Cohort centurions that he didn’t fight anymore.

He’s seen glimpses of _this_ Jason—the one who slammed the butt of Diocletian’s scepter into the ground and commanded dead spirits to rise. This Jason is akin to the one in front of Bram Castle—the one drugged by charmspeak. But this time Jason isn’t charmspoken. He wasn’t instructed to kill Nico—he’s fueled with a frigid rage of a Grecian soldier with broad shoulders and a grip so tight that the lines in his forearms are prominent—and he holds himself in front of Nico like a shield.

“An attack awaits us,” Zoe snaps angrily, “and thou hast disarmed my huntresses. Ruined our fortress. Made haste with our bait with thy perverted acts of heroism?”

_“Bait_?” Jason echoes, and he turns his head to Nico, glancing with distress.

“They were about to let me go,” Nico reassures. He doesn’t like the way that Zoe said the word _perverted_ —or how heinously Zoe gestured to the skeletons below. “They wanted to use me to guide Orion here and slow him down. It was going to help with our quest, Jason. I agreed to it.”

With each word, he sees Jason’s demeanor morph with confusion and ire.

“So,” Nico continues, and he glares at Zoe. “I suggest you call off your archers against my friend, Lieutenant Nightshade, unless you want to render more of your huntresses useless.”

The Huntresses are quiet and stealthy—Nico will admit that. The balcony level is lined with them, arrows nocked and aimed at Jason’s head. Nico hasn’t figured out why a dagger jabbed or a sword swung has bent in Jason’s path—but he thinks the Huntresses are still wanting to kill Jason now and understand the rationale later.

“I can assure you, son of Hades,” Hylla suddenly interrupts, and she stands beside Zoe, “I wish no harm to come to little Nico, either.”

Of all times Hylla has referred to him as _little Nico_ , he wishes this wasn’t one of them. Again, Jason’s gaze darts between him and the two female leaders, confusion evident in the hue of his eyes. Nico wishes he could just hide under his cloak.

“Hylla, Queen of the Amazons,” she says, and she extends a friendly hand.

Jason doesn’t shake it. He doesn’t sheathe his sword, either. “Reyna’s sister.”

Hylla shifts her gaze back to Nico, a flicker of mirth in her eyes. “Nightshade, call off your huntresses.”

Zoe glares—but with a dismissive wave, the huntresses relinquish their bows and arrows.

“Jason,” Nico says, and his gaze falls to the hand laced around his. The one doing its best not to shake with fury. “I’m okay.”

Jason turns his gaze back, blond eyebrows furrowed one last time as he inspects Nico for a sign of injury. Something about it feels more intimate than when Jason dressed his wounds from the battle with empousai. More personal.

Finally, Jason sheathes his sword.

“Well then,” Hylla says. She claps her hands together. “How about we discuss using little Nico as bait over tea?”

*

The Amazons return to loading shipments like nothing happened. They instruct the manservants to clean up Jason’s mess ( _Jason Grace’s mess_ , is what Zoe calls it. Other than offering a tired look, Jason doesn’t protest. Nico’s irked for him) and business continues as usual. Earlier, Nico saw an Amazon throw a spear at a greedy gryphon and kill it in one fatal sweep—so he assumes monster attacks are just a perk of the job.

No one was injured, reports Phoebe, a huntress. Only disarmed and bound. Jason was conscientious of doing this—and the skills with his sword eerily rivals Percy—the best swordsman at Camp Jupiter. Nonetheless, the huntresses look annoyed that their weapons were damaged, and Zoe does nothing to pacify the situation. Hylla mentions something about insurance coverage and Nico does his best not to snap at Zoe when Jason doesn’t say a word.

After the reassurance of Nico’s safety, Jason is calm—arms crossed over the parrots of his hot pink button up as Hylla, Zoe, and Nico explain Gaea’s words and Orion’s strange modus operandi. His pale lips curl into a frown when they get to the end of the explanation.

“Orion goes after girls,” Jason says finally, “but you’re telling me he’s going after Nico specifically. Who’s a boy.”

Zoe eyes him angrily. “Thou dare mansplain my lady’s bane to me?”

Hylla stifles a laugh. It’s the only thing preventing this conversation from turning into a feud.

“No—Nico and I have both been warned about Orion in our dreams,” Jason says. “But for his goals to align with Gaea—to kill an angel with _eyes of daylight_ and _hair of the evening sky_ —the only girl who meets this description to a tee is—”

“Bianca di Angelo,” Zoe cuts in.

“—who’s dead,” Jason finishes. The tone of his voice reminds Nico of this morning—when Jason admitted to shouting Bianca’s name and receiving nothing in return. Not even the son of Hades, who summoned a dozen skeletal soldiers, could make Bianca di Angelo’s spirit appear in Tartarus.

Normally at the mention of Bianca’s name, Jason has turned to look at Nico, asking for permission to go on. This time, Nico finds himself secondary as Jason and Zoe lock eyes.

“Watch thy tone, son of Hades,” Zoe warns. “One may think thou are implying her death is on _my_ hands.”

Nico’s head cocks back to Zoe, whose mien has become more antagonistic since Jason’s arrival. The realization hits him that for all the consolation that Nico has offered Jason in coming to terms with Bianca’s death—he never asked the circumstances of it. All he knows is Bianca’s life ended with the huntresses.

“We wouldn’t want that now,” Jason agrees wearily.

“No,” Zoe says, “thou would not.”

They stare at each other, Zoe’s glower bitter and Jason’s gaze defensive. Nico saw it once when Percy aimed a fist at Jason’s face—but even then, Jason refused to look Percy in the face for a lie. Now, Jason’s gaze is unwavering beneath Zoe’s own.

Hylla clears her throat. “Our intention is to send the two of you on your merry way once Orion arrives. We will slay Orion here, and this should aid your quest in delivering the Athena Parthenos.”

Jason looks over to Zoe specifically. “Which one is more important to you?”

“Doth that matter?” Zoe asks. “Fate has forced our goals to align in this briefest moment, Jason Grace. Thou should offer gratitude.”

Jason scoffs, his gaze flying to his hands on the wooden table. He hasn’t taken one sip of his tea.

Zoe glares at him. “Doth thou have a better plan?”

Dark eyes raise to meet Nico’s own. Jason’s eyebrows knit together as he peers at Nico, but it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking.

“I don’t want to put Nico in danger,” he says finally. “I don’t think any of your lives should be put in danger while we transport the Athena Parthenos. We can’t keep waiting here. More lives will be saved if we get back to Camp Halfblood.”

Nico knows Jason is right. Between two children of the Big Three and Hylla’s unsurmountable heap of technology, this distribution center is waving a flare and welcoming all monsters. It’s cake for a tracker like Orion.

“Maybe Gaea meant someone else,” Jason says. His eyebrows knit together, and he touches his head. He hesitates for some reason. “Besides—I…I’m just not sure if that’s right. Orion may be after us, but the last couple of dreams I’ve had…I’ve heard dogs.”

They all stare at Jason. His tone is innocuous, despite the sheer tension between the pair.

“Dog,” Hylla repeats skeptically. “Orion’s wolves, perhaps?”

“Not wolves,” Jason insists. “Dogs.”

“Thou dare mock my intelligence?” Zoe asks darkly.

“No,” Nico says, and he surprises Jason by touching the other demigod’s wrist. He grimaces, recalling the end of his own dream. “Jason’s right. The last dream I had, I…I heard dogs, too.”

Jason cocks his head back to Nico, and stares at the other demigod intensely. Nico’s heart skips a beat—and there’s a hidden meaning to his gaze.

Something that wasn’t there this morning.

Something that was spoken this morning, and quickly dismissed.

Zoe doesn’t care. Every pause between Jason and Nico is a waste of time for her, and her lips stretch into a scowl. “Doth thou know the centuries I’ve hunted for Orion’s ichor? The centuries I’ve learned my lady’s way, and swore to protect her the way she protects us? The Fates gifted me with the knowledge of tracking down my lady’s bane, and now thou dare tells me that the cry of a small canine in the dreams of a _boy_ disproves what I’ve spent ages of my immortal life hunting?”

Jason sighs wearily. Something tells Nico that Jason learned reasoning with Zoe Nightshade was pointless. “You can’t keep Nico. He’s important to me.”

Nico cocks his head back to Jason as the other demigod glances in his direction. Those pale cheeks suddenly look darker.

“He’s important to my _quest—our_ quest,” Jason corrects himself. He sucks in a breath—and the strain in his tone just proves how tired he is. The realization hits Nico quickly—Jason hasn’t rested at all. Nico left Coach Hedge and the son of Hades for all of two seconds and got himself kidnapped. “We’re not wasting our time here when it could be spent delivering the Virgin Athena.”

Nico’s gaze darts back to Zoe and Hylla. Zoe’s gaze darkens, and Hylla’s expression hardens.

“If I’m not mistaken, Jason Grace,” Hylla says, “you are the ones who called for our aid. Now you call preventing further slaughter of Amazons and Huntresses a _waste of time_?”

“Sorry. That came out wrong,” Jason offers, specifically in Hylla’s direction. “I’m saying that the time spent here, where Orion is nowhere to be seen brings death closer to both our camps. And—”

Jason raises his head back to Zoe warily.

“—I know war will be secondary,” he says, “while advancing the Huntresses will always come first. No matter the cost.”

He turns his gaze back to Nico, and the intensity of his eyes almost makes Nico jump. There’s a grimness to his irises.

But again, Lieutenant Nightshade doesn’t waver. She smiles bitterly in front of Jason, her hands at the table. “Thou speak as though the goals of the Huntresses are meaningless, whist thou swing a sword and play the game of heroes.”

“What happened to our goals aligning?” Nico interjects, when the hostility against Jason becomes too much. It’s Jason this time, who cocks his head in surprise at Nico coming to his defense—but more time spent here is futile. “If we get the statue to Camp Halfblood now, Orion won’t be an issue for you. Gaea will be weakened.”

Zoe’s gaze is hard and somber. “The game of heroes, Nico di Angelo, is a game where only the hero wins. Where he recounts his glory and omits his plights. History tells only the story of fools, while those like me—like my _huntresses_ —will forever wither in the shadows of man.”

“That’s not true,” Nico protests—he thinks getting shot out of the air by a silver arrow and meeting someone else who knew his sister is proof that the Huntresses will forever leave a bad taste in his mouth.

“Is it not?” Zoe turns her head back to Jason, her expression harsh as she scowls. “How else doth thou stand with him, Praetor di Angelo?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nico glares. She scoffs.

“Doth thou think I don’t remember the tales, Jason Grace? How thou are the savior of Olympus who slayed the father of the eldest gods,” Zoe says coldly, “over the heaps of thine own fallen comrades? No one will know the other part of the tale. Camp Halfblood will only sing thy name as the savior of Olympus who nobly mourned his people.”

The air is cool in the room. It’s all too familiar to how Nico’s felt when he struggles to control his own emotions and unwillingly summons a storm. Jason’s gaze is unwavering from Zoe’s own. Nico catches sight of them now—the son of Hades’s hands shaking beneath the table despite his calm demeanor.

“Nightshade,” Hylla says, her voice just as stern but not nearly as cruel. “You of all people know what it means when a girl vows herself to Diana. She lives until she falls in battle. Heroes are the same, fighting a war. The dead rest now.”

“No, Queen Hylla,” Zoe says coldly. “I’m well aware that the dead do not remain _dead_ with Jason Grace.”

Hylla looks confused. She turns to meet Nico’s gaze, but Nico feels the anger boiling his blood. Zoe is smug when no one answers her.

“Even now thou decide to omit the plight of thy heroics,” she continues. “I speak the truth thou think can be shrouded: Bianca di Angelo took her last breath on the eve of her sixteenth birthday as a huntress, but I saved her from thee lifting her bloodied corpse, fresher than the skeletons thou used to bind my huntresses.”

Jason doesn’t say a word.

“The wisest choice Bianca di Angelo ever made was turn her back on the game of heroes,” Zoe says with finality, and she narrows her gaze. “And _die_ , before she was enslaved by a man. By _thee._ ”

“You can stop now,” Nico snaps—but Zoe doesn’t listen.

In a fight about his sister, he’s never been a contender. Zoe doesn’t mention Bianca’s name with the same gentle sadness as Jason. She holds it over Jason’s head, ready to aim it like an arrow that won’t bend as it hits. Zoe doesn’t even look at Nico. She stares hard at Jason, her gaze cold and hostile as ever.

“Thou tell me the truth shan’t be omitted, Nico di Angelo,” Zoe retorts. “Jason Grace won the war with the flesh of his fallen comrades. He used the corpses of my sisters, when we came to his aid. He used the bodies of fallen maidens, when they tied themselves to my lady. Yet children sing his praises as a hero, and I sit here as my lady’s ward, _mocked_ for my desire to slay the Hunter giant because I am not him.”

She scoffs angrily.

“I sit here scorned by the great Titanslayer when Bianca di Angelo chose her fate,” she continues. “When she turned her back on thee. Thou are no better than Orion, Jason Grace. Scorning my huntresses because thou were spurned.”

Nico blasts Zoe with a cold burst of air.

The gust forces her chair ten feet backwards and slams her into a wall. For the first time, Lieutenant Nightshade’s gaze snaps to him, and Jason’s eyes rise to him in shock. A flock of huntresses nearby suddenly raise to their feet, remaining arrows nocked for their lieutenant.

But Nico can’t help himself. Electricity is hissing in his ears. He _feels_ it crackling in his fingertips. The lights above them flicker—and Nico’s chest swells with a rage as full as a nimbus cloud. So, he asks, “How about we take a break, Lieutenant Nightshade?”

*

Hylla guides them to an aviary, which is filled with eagles, parrots, and even some penguins. Nico shakes his head in disbelief. The Amazons really did sell everything.

At first, Nico thinks Jason still wants to keep him at arm’s length—far from anyone with the title of Amazon or Huntress. He doesn’t seem to mind Hylla as much. Most of that tension is clearly because of Zoe Nightshade. But Jason doesn’t look happy to wander into a flock of birds, either. So, the son of Hades sidles back into a wall close by instead.

“He didn’t mean to offend,” Nico says when he notices Hylla’s gaze linger. “I really don’t think he meant that comment about Orion being a waste of time.”

“No,” Hylla agrees, and her tone is tired. “I don’t believe he did.”

Nico turns his attention to Jason and notices the other demigod staring. Jason’s lips are pressed in a frown. The sword on Jason’s hip used to look like a decoration. Now Jason looks ready to draw it if the huntresses or Amazons come for him again. For _Nico_ again.

“She rejected his message,” Hylla admits. “Nightshade only came when I informed her of Orion.”

Nico stares at Hylla. “There’s a war going on and Lieutenant Nightshade rejected a message?”

The corner of Hylla’s lip lifts into an exasperated smile. “Nightshade has been a huntress far longer than I’ve been Queen of the Amazons. I’m not sure what convinced her to join Artemis’s side, but no one doubts how devoted she is to her lady. She’s always wanted the Huntresses to prosper greater than any male hero.”

Nico wrinkles his nose. Of course, he knows there’s no place for him in a group of girls—but something about the way Hylla explains it makes Bianca joining the Huntresses feel more strategic than offering solace for his late sister. So many people sought after him because he was Jupiter’s son. He has no doubt it wasn’t any different for Bianca. Otherwise she wouldn’t have tried so hard to change her fate.

One that Jupiter had resigned them to, when he ripped the two of them out of their mothers’ arms back in Venice.

He thinks he understands Bianca’s decision even more now—why she wanted to move forward and turn her back on everything. Dwelling on the past made no difference when they could get it back.

Hylla turns her head to the other side of the aviary and gestures for Jason to come close. Jason turns his gaze to meet Nico’s curiously, and only agrees to move after Nico nods. Nico pretends he doesn’t notice the eldest daughter of Bellona’s look of amusement.

“I’m going to try and calm Nightshade down,” Hylla says. “Don’t touch anything that you can’t afford to buy.”

Jason’s face twists doubtfully, but he nods. “Um—sorry again, about what I said about the Amazons and Huntresses. It really didn’t come out the right way.”

At that moment, Hylla turns her gaze to Nico, and amusement flashes in the hue of her eyes. “That’s quite alright, Grace. Despite what Nightshade says, anyone who takes care of my little sister can’t be all bad. Besides—with powers like yours, you and your skeletal army would make fantastic manslaves.”

Blond eyebrows press together. Jason stares back in confusion.

“Maybe after the war, Hylla,” Nico says, and he touches Jason’s arm before the other demigod feels compelled to answer. He shoots a look that reads _no, probably not after the war_ , _either_.

She chuckles heartily in a way that reminds Nico of Thalia and claps a hand on his shoulder. “I know that look anywhere, little Nico. My sister has taught you well.”

With that, she disappears out of the corridor. Nico heaves a heavy sigh as the door shuts, then turns to look at Jason. Dark eyes stare back at him, Jason’s arms crossed over his chest and his stature tall.

“Are you okay?” Jason says finally, after Nico knows he’s been staring too long. In an instance, Jason’s eyebrows furrow together again, his lips turned into a frown.

Nico raises his gaze and stares at Jason as though he’s grown a second head.

“You just fended off a group of Amazons and Huntresses and got a verbal lashing from Artemis’s lieutenant,” he says slowly, “and you’re asking if _I’m_ okay?”

The confusion on Jason’s face reflects Nico’s own. “Well…yeah, Nico. You got kidnapped.”

Nico’s not sure what to say to that. He can still smell the crispness at the tips of his fingers from when he got angry on Jason’s behalf. Each of Zoe’s words only made him angrier, and he could practically feel the storm coiling in the pit of his stomach. Yet somehow for Jason, everything about Artemis’s Lieutenant about is second to Nico’s safety.

“I’m fine,” Nico says after he remembers to speak—and then he curls his hands into fists. “She has no right to treat you the way she is.”

From behind him, he can hear Jason laugh quietly—but mostly at himself. “That could’ve gone better.”

“What right does she have yelling at you like that?” Nico shouts angrily—and some of the birds startle in the aviary. “Olympus would’ve ceased to exist if you didn’t slay Kronos. Her _huntresses_ would’ve ceased to exist.”

He expects his own ferocity to echo in Jason’s own demeanor—but it doesn’t. The son of Hades’s expression is dark and tired. There are bags under his eyes, weary—but they’re not just from today. Jason looks as grim as he did after Tartarus. Maybe he always looked like this—Nico just didn’t notice before. But Jason doesn’t protest—his lips fade from their tiny, joyless smile, and he doesn’t meet Nico’s eye.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Nico asks—and a fierceness boils in his stomach in knots. He stumbles as he paces—and he would’ve fallen, if Jason hadn’t caught him.

“Zoe’s hard to reason with,” Jason says, and he scans the rest of Nico with intent. His eyes linger of Nico’s shoulder.

It takes Nico a second to realize Jason is doing something that has become routine for the son of Hades. Inspecting him for wounds. Red flushes across Nico’s face, and he urges, “She was slandering you.”

The corner of Jason’s lips raises tiredly, and he slowly lets go. The gesture is gentle—but punctuated. “Zoe was right.”

Three words that don’t belong together. Nico’s jaw tightens. “She wasn’t.”

“I spent my days after Kronos hoping people will forget that part of the war,” Jason protests. “And try to get them to see me as something different.”

For the first time, he’s putting up an argument. Nico just hates that Jason’s argument is against himself.

“There’s more to you than heroic stories,” Nico protests, and he watches Jason's face twist—like his emotions have reached the brim of a cup.

“I…never wanted to _be_ a hero, Nico,” Jason admits, and his fingers twitch at his side. “There’s truth to what Zoe said. I _was_ angry when Bianca chose the Huntresses over me. I spent my whole life learning about Greek heroes and tragedies hoping if I blended in with the other kids, the prophecy wouldn’t be about me. And then Luke got into my head, telling me that I was _important_ —and Bianca died, and I became this _chosen one_ anyway. I didn’t have to try. Blending in with the other kids ostracized me _more_ when they realized what I could do to them.”

There’s sorrow in Jason’s tone. He was _forced_ into the role of camp leader as much as Nico was forced to don the praetor robes after both Thalia and Reyna left. But as free as Nico was to make his own decisions under his two praetors and his co-centurion, Jason was bound to a prophecy and tried to take it alone.

“That’s the real reason you don’t fight anymore,” Nico surmises—and Jason grimaces. “You didn’t want anyone to remember how bad it got.” 

Jason bows his head.

“You wanted to be like the other kids,” Nico continues—and for the first time, Jason’s face twists _like_ he’s any other person. The words Nico says now have more impact than all of Zoe’s slander.

“It’s…selfish, I know,” Jason mutters, and his hand fall to the hilt of his sword. “It’s my duty to protect them.”

“Jason,” Nico suddenly says—and he reaches out to intercept Jason’s hand. To pull it away from the sword hanging at his hip. “There’s nothing wrong with _wanting_ to be normal.”

Jason raises his gaze slowly, his dark eyes looking far less intimidating than before. His gaze is doubtful—more like that kid after Eros exposed his thoughts—and his hands seem to bristle under Nico’s grip. “I don’t think I know what that looks like, either, Nico.”

He punctuates that with certainty.

There are holes in Jason’s shirt where the eyes of some parrots should be. When they regrouped, Nico checked to see if Jason was injured—if Jason had sustained any wounds—but despite the holes in his shirt, there were no cuts or blood. Nico hadn’t given much thought to what injuries Jason sustained after battling the empousai. Suddenly he’s wondering if Jason has sustained _any_ since their journey started—and he scans Jason up and down.

“There’s not one scratch on you,” Nico realizes. No matter how many eyes were poked out of the parrots on Jason’s shirt or the tears in his pants, Jason looks perfect.

Jason looks confused for a moment, in his pink and green ensemble. The camp beads hang heavily across his collarbone, and the sword hangs blithely against his hip. Nico’s never seen a more picture perfect image of a demigod on a cruise.

“Oh,” is all Jason says. His hand flies to the back of his neck, like swatting a fly. “It’s a curse.”

“A curse?”

Despite the harrowing words from earlier, Jason now shifts uncomfortably. His eyes dart to the ground, and he looks hesitant to say anymore.

Nico can’t blame him. “It’s okay. We don’t have to—”

“No—” Jason’s hand immediately reaches out for Nico’s. “Stay. Please?”

He looks at Nico, practically begging. Nico can feel Jason’s hands trembling at his wrist—and this looks more like the Jason that Nico was getting to know. The aftermath of someone beyond a traumatizing war.

Nico nods slowly, and Jason slowly helps him to the ground.

Jason takes a while, but he finally speaks up. “Do you know about Achilles?”

“I know _of_ Achilles,” Nico frowns. They studied the Iliad since it held so many important facts of their history, even if it started Greek, but most people grazed over the details because it was a story of the east enemy. And his own exposure to Achilles came from Mythomagic, where the watered-down version talked about the old Greek hero bathing in the River—

Oh.

Nico’s eyes widen, then he inspects Jason again from head-to-toe. Sure enough, like his earlier scrutiny, there weren’t any wounds. Jason stares at him patiently.

“It…was one of the things that Annabeth and I talked about when she and I were still friends,” Jason explains quietly. “We were trying to figure out how to combat the prophecy and…Luke had convinced her that my learning how to use my powers was so important, that it was one of the suggestions she threw out. And the River Styx. It’s in my father’s realm.”

“You’re like Achilles,” Nico whispers in awe.

“I have his curse,” Jason agrees, and his shoulders heave tiredly. “There’s a lot to it. You need to have a parent’s blessing, first of all. My choices were between my dad and my mom, who’s in Asphodel. We were getting desperate, especially after—”

He hesitates for a moment, this time looking at Nico. Nico curls his fingers on his lap, but nods for Jason to continue.

“—especially after Luke sought the Huntresses out,” Jason says quietly, “and killed Bianca. To ensure that the _less_ Big Three children were alive, the better.”

Nico’s blood runs cold. Luke Castellan already left a bad taste in his mouth for how he seemed to leave Jason in shambles—but it’s worse now, knowing how things ended between the two extremes in Jason’s life.

“You don’t have to tell me about her death,” Nico says quietly. The less he knows about it, the better he could keep his composure.

Jason nods, evidently unable to stomach her death himself. “The curse is why Achilles was a one-man army in the Trojan War. He was invincible. The curse heightens your senses. Your…emotions and your powers.”

He hesitates.

“My emotions and my powers,” Jason says.

The fraction of a second that Nico felt Jason’s grief comes flying back to him. His heart wrenches just at the thought of it, and Nico wasn’t even there. But he’s seen Jason’s face twist with reluctance and shame every time it’s brought up. For all the ferocity Jason carried when he charged into the distribution enter, Jason didn’t dare combat Zoe Nightshade’s words.

“It happened before I even knew what was going on. I just got _angry_ , and my brain reacted before I could catch up to it,” Jason admits, and then he rests his head in the palms of his hands. “And—by the time I shouted an order to keep on fighting, I realized that our army was its original size. Only this time, if someone got stabbed, they could just keep going. They weren’t going to die until I wanted them to. And—until Luke was dead, I—I didn’t want them to.”

A cold chill runs up Nico’s spine.

“Zoe was right,” Jason echoes, his voice quiet, “I let Camp Halfblood call me a hero so they can forget how I got there. It’s unfair of me to be able to take an arrow to the heart and have it do nothing. And then to use the corpses of my friends. I didn’t win the war on my own. But—I can’t take back how we won the war. I don’t want to fight again. I… _can’t_ fight again.”

Nico shivers at the words. He’d already seen Jason fight once before in front of Bram Castle—how agile and smoothly Jason could flip a sword between his fingers and mercilessly go for a kill. Lupa would relish in a pup like Jason—someone who easily _conquered_ over death. Jason is easily on par with any Legionnaire, including Percy. Jason holds his sword like Thalia. He stood with an air of power that was worth all the praise Hazel gave him.

Not all demigods fight or choose war. Leo had chosen to work at a masonry instead of signing his life away to the Legion. Even Percy wasn’t sold on the Roman customs that came with Camp Jupiter—but he did it because it was the first time he belonged somewhere. _Not_ fighting took as much strength as choosing to fight.

Nico feels _awful_ that the empousai had gotten to Jason, but—

“You did though,” Nico says, puzzled. Even the sound of Jason’s voice had made him shudder. “You raised a sword for me.”

Jason turns his attention back to Nico. His gaze is quaint and soft. “Yeah, I did.”

Nico’s chest burns uncomfortably. He’d seen the way Jason’s hands trembled when the son of Hades struggled with his words. They’d shaken with Zoe too as she spouted heated slander. Maybe Jason didn’t want to feel like that _chosen one_ that Camp Halfblood made him out to be, but clearly the thought of fighting took a toll on him, too. Duty of peace aside. “You…you didn’t have to do that. They were going to let me go. I—I agreed to their plan before it ended up being so stupid.”

“I know,” Jason agrees, and this time he looks more embarrassed. “Zoe has a tendency to get under my skin.”

“Because of Bianca,” Nico says. Suddenly Zoe comparing Jason to Orion with such disgust comes back to Nico—and it makes him angry. Zoe didn’t know what the relationship between Bianca and Jason was—and she didn’t care. 

“Yeah. Because of Bianca.” Jason stares at his hands quietly, fingers curling together. “Zoe already took one important person away from me. I didn’t want her to take another one.”

Red blooms in Nico’s cheeks and his heart skips a beat. “You…know that I’m a boy, right?”

Suddenly, Jason’s own face looks red—worsened by the burn of the Puerto Rican sun. “Zoe only cares about her huntresses. Even after Bianca fell, she was more focused on recruiting girls than she was avenging Bianca’s death. If Orion got to you, she wouldn’t have blinked.”

“I’m sorry.” Nico’s chest tightens—and the anger just boils in his blood. He thinks about how he _ended up_ in this facility—how Hylla allowed Zoe and her huntresses to capture him by any mean possible. When Zoe was under the impression that he was Bianca, she chose a _tranquilizer._ “If I’d known how awful she was—”

“It’s fine, Nico,” Jason dismisses. “You’re safe.”

Nico scrutinizes Jason—more than before. This is the most they’ve talked since Juno—and in all of that time, Jason tried to reach out. He gave Nico an out—talk to him, don’t talk to him. Jason is dismissive, _again_ —and Nico’s only now picking up on it.

“You need to stop doing that,” Nico says—and Jason looks back at him, puzzled.

“Doing what?”

“Letting yourself become everyone’s punching bag.” Nico’s hand curls. He doesn’t know when it’d made it over to Jason’s hand—maybe it never left. But he’s cognizant now, just how much Jason’s hand trembles despite the calmness of his voice. “You deserve more than that.”

“I…don’t—”

“You deserve to be more than a punching bag for Olympus. For Zoe. For Bianca.” Nico’s cheeks burn, but he doesn’t back down. “For me _._ ”

Jason stares at him with a tired confusion—and it’s worse than Eros. Nico has no idea what happened in the last four days, but clearly one leg injury was enough to make Jason doubt himself all over again.

“You,” Jason says slowly, “were taking in a lot of information. I threw another bomb at you. Like Bianca.”

His expression is quiet and tired after days of unrest—but it’s clear he doesn’t want to put up a fight. He’s not even shielding himself the way he did with Zoe. If anything—Jason’s worry is earnest. And it’s _still_ directed at Nico, rather than for himself.

“I,” Nico starts slowly, and he awkwardly caresses one of the cuts healing on his arm, “didn’t have the best reaction to that. No. I…”

He hesitates, and Jason only sighs.

“It’s okay, Nico,” Jason reassures.

“Please stop saying that.” Nico’s lips twist into a grimace and he ducks his head. “Look, I’ve… _never_ liked my dad. Ever. I…already knew he was involved in bringing us to this century, I just never understood why.”

Before Pripyat, Nico would’ve gone about his day cursing out Jupiter. Being Jupiter’s son came with an onslaught of privileges—but twice as many consequences for all the monsters and people that he and his children have spurned. And—as Nico’s learned, Jupiter was no father—just a gambler who sought to spread his name and took anyone as his pawn.

Nico understood very quickly how different his life would be when Thalia and he stepped foot I camp. All the bowing, all the attention from strangers when all he wanted was to mourn Bianca’s death. He took a bold step when it came to taking Thalia Grace’s hand and leaving the Lotus Casino—and she made sure every day that this new life was worth living.

But—every now and then, Bianca’s absence was felt. Every birthday that passed. Every holiday. Every time he stood in front of the statue of Jupiter Optimus Maximus and wondered why the Fates wouldn’t let them be together. Nico _had_ to move forward because if he dwelled in the past, he’d—

Well. He’d end up like Bianca, who shut that door completely and joined the Huntresses.

“I already knew I lost my sister,” he says quietly, and he rubs his tattoo again. The inked eagle that made up his identity for the last five years—but only that. Before this eagle, Nico was the son of Maria di Angelo. Brother of Bianca di Angelo.

Son of Juno. Her _little sparrow._

“I didn’t know there was even more to lose,” he finishes, and his chest grows tight. “The gods don’t visit their children often. At least—not as much as the Romans. Not like your dad.”

He sighs in frustration, but not quite with the anger that he originally expected.

This life—the one where his sister decided to ignore their father in favor of her own fate—feels too eerily similar. He’s the same age as Bianca was when she gave up mortality to forsake the Great Prophecy. It’s weird talking about her after all of these years. Has been, since Jason walked into New Rome all those months ago.

They could’ve been together. Stayed _together_ , if their father continued to ignore them after Juno’s request.

“Really, knowing he was nothing more than a _sperm donor_ is kind of a relief,” Nico grumbles. He crosses his arms over his chest, tucking the tattoo away for good. “His tales were always the worst to sit through.”

As he looks back up, he’s not sure what to expect. Jason’s gaze is gentle against Nico’s own and for the first time all day—maybe since before Odessa—he’s smiling.

For some reason, pink dusts across Nico’s cheeks. The corner of his own lip lifts—maybe from the relief that Jason’s has, too.

“Don’t tell me,” Nico guesses wryly, “Bianca said the same thing.”

Jason shakes his head. “No. That’s all you, Nico.”

Pink turns to red over the bridge of Nico’s nose. He fiddles with one of his belt loops. “Oh.”

“Um,” Jason says all of a sudden—and he clears his throat. “About the dogs…and…Bianca…”

Nico cocks his head back. Jason offers the same look that he did in front of Zoe and Hylla—hardened and serious.

_BOOM!!_

Jason yanks Nico close. The entire facility suddenly quakes, and an explosion reverberates against the walls.

Then—nothing.

Queen Hylla and Lieutenant Nightshade burst through the doors, weapons in hands.

“ _ORION—_!”

_“—HE’S ARRIVED!”_

*

Nico has no idea how Orion, the Hunter Who Never Rests managed to infiltrate the Amazon facility right under their noses—but then he remembers Orion has been _tracking_ Artemis’s Huntresses and the Amazons for _millenia_ now. The bane of the Twin Archers wouldn’t be considered a _bane_ if he wasn’t _good_ at it.

The birds in the aviary squawk and squander in a tumultuous discord, feathers flying as they screech. The facility quakes with each step—and the sharp sound of wolves howl down the corridors of the distribution center.

It’s _nothing_ like Lupa’s wolves. And certainly _nothing_ like what Nico’s heard in his dreams. It’s crueler, and fiercer—and Nico can hear that sounds of Amazons and Huntresses battling down the corridor. Hylla is cursing, and Lieutenant Nightshade is shouting orders at her huntresses.

The eldest daughter of Bellona throws her head over her shoulders, looking so terrifyingly like her sister as she meets Nico’s gaze. “ _RUN!_ You’ve done your job!”

Jason and he look at each other.

Nico still doesn’t want to.

His chest tightens as the realization hits him hard. _Running_ cost him Bianca. He _left_ Piper. He _lost_ Thalia and Reyna to Tartarus—

—and he’ll be damned if he loses Hylla. If he has to _watch_ Reyna lose her sister, too.

Jason seems to understand without Nico even saying a word. He unsheathes his sword, and Nico’s heart aches.

“You don’t—”

“It’s fine, Nico.” Jason’s gaze flickers and his grip tightens over his gladius. It shouldn’t look so good in his hand. _Shouldn’t._

Despite the bitter discourse from earlier, Jason’s tone is cool. The shaking of his hands has dissolved into nothing but a mere tremble, and his dark eyes narrow before him. Nico stares at this image of Jason Grace—blessed by darkness and coveted in shadows, while fluidly ready to strike its next conversation.

“We’re not done with this conversation,” Nico decides—and the visage of Jason Grace, son of Hades, breaks for only a moment.

Then Orion appears.

He’s much more brutal in his entrance than Jason was. An Amazon in a white jumpsuit goes flying over Artemis’s Lieutenant and the Queen of the Amazons—slamming straight into the bars of the aviary with a bloody _CLANG!_ Nico ducks out of the way as she lands—and he barely registers Jason pulling him close.

Orion’s wolves appear on the scene, claws clattering against the cement floor while the giant walks up.

Nico almost chokes when he sees the Hunter. Orion is offensively handsome—his jaw is square and chiseled, face the color of wheat toast and his smoky hair shaved into an undercut. There’s a hunting knife at his belt over his black leather breeches and matching jerkin, and his broad shoulders are amassed with a giant quiver full of arrows, while his veiny hand clutches a black composite bow.

Orion reminds Nico of Jason, if the son of Hades could actually pull off looking _punk_ instead of like he walked off the set of _Grease_.

“So?” Orion asks his wolves—and his voice reminds Nico of every Hollywood reality star that’s too into themselves. “The daughter of Zeus. Where is she?”

All eyes turn to Nico, and the irritation builds in the pit of his stomach.

“Present,” Nico replies with exasperation.

Orion’s red, mechanical eyes whir and buzz—and as they narrow at Nico, they blink vivid green like a stoplight in San Francisco traffic. They stare at Nico—then Orion’s gaze falls back at his wolves. “Is this a joke? _Him_?”

_“Thank you_ ,” Nico grumbles.  
  
“Ignore him! Orion!” Zoe wields her bow and arrow—and a dozen others nock their arrows against the Hunter Giant. “Thou shall die by the hand of a huntress tonight!”

“Or an Amazon,” Hylla mutters.

“Sweetheart,” Orion says with deadpan, “the men are talking.”

Zoe fumes. “ _Fire_!”

A storm of arrows split through the air and barrage towards the Hunter Giant. Orion’s wolves leap into action, snagging what arrows they can and splitting them in their maul—while Orion deflects the remaining squall. The Amazons are quick to cut in with spears raised in their fists as they barrel towards the giant.

Wolves bark in upstart—thrice the size of Lupa and her pack—and they tackle huntresses and warrior women left and right. Zoe propels herself off the shoulders of one of her righthand—Phoebe—drives a dagger into Orion’s mechanical eye.

Orion cries out in pain.

_“Centuries_ ,” Zoe sneers, “I’ve hunted thee—and thou dare consider me beneath a _man_?”

Orion’s chuckle is as leathery as his ensemble, his eye gushing with the golden ichor of the immortals. “That’s where you belong, sweetheart.”

He yanks Zoe’s hand out of his eye and crushes it between his fingers—and she howls in pain.

_“Fetch_ ,” he says. Orion throws her across the length of the aviary and his snarling wolves chase after Zoe like an oversized silver chew toy.

Jason is quick. He scales the bars of the aviary and catches her—but she’s already fighting to get out of his grip.

_“DO NOT TOUCH ME!”_ she screams. She rolls out of his arms and charges back into the battle scene, leaving a thankless Jason behind. Zoe wields her dagger in her other hand—but she isn’t nearly as graceful as Jason as she fends off against a wolf.

Another canine launches at them—and Jason is quicker than Nico is. The wolf tries to sink its teeth in Jason’s arm—and there’s a _CRACK as_ its front teeth shatter. it howls in pain, momentarily dissuaded, and Jason shoves it back. He swings a sword at another wolf charging behind her, and—

“I _needn’t_ your help!” Zoe hisses.

Nico proceeds in the air, his sword in hand, and slices through an arrow aimed at the Queen of the Amazons.

“Hylla!” Nico shouts. “A Giant can only be slain by a demigod and god working together!”

“Fates change all the time, little Nico,” Hylla cries back, and she wields a sword in her hand, fending off against a giant wolf.

Orion takes her by the back of her jumpsuit and slams her into a wall.

Anger boils in Nico’s veins. “ _Hylla_!”

The electricity spills across his torso, instinctive, and the crackle of lightning is enough to make Orion turn around. He stares at Nico with one working mechanical eye, and his lips curl into a infuriatingly handsome smile that Nico wants to punch.

“Well,” Orion purrs, “you’ll do.”

He relinquishes his grip over Hylla’s throat and nocks an arrow. Nico slices through it with his sword as it ascends in the air. He isn’t as lucky with the other two.

Orion’s marksmanship easily rivals the gods. He nocks the second arrow while Nico is still splitting the first one—and Nico barely dodges.

The third one grazes Nico in the cheek and disorients him. _“Ack!”_

Orion yanks him out of the air—by Nico’s _wounded_ leg—and slams him into the ground. Nico cries out in pain, his sword suddenly fazing through his hazy fingers and clattering against the ground.

“Nico!” someone shouts. Jason. The last Nico saw of the son of Hades, Jason was still helping fend off wolves, back-to-back with Zoe whether Artemis’s lieutenant liked it or not.

Nico opens his eyes, gritting his teeth in pain. He stares at the blurry, handsome face of Orion—who has the nerve to smile.

“An angel,” Orion observes, “with _eyes of daylight_ and _hair_ _of blackest night._ I didn’t expect such a beautiful description to go to a rumpled thing like you.”

The sky goes dark. The humid Puerto Rican heat is suddenly icy cold. Goosebumps rise against Nico’s arms like needles—and suddenly his heart is pulsing thrice its speed as it tries to leap out of his chest. He _gasps_ for air—because he’s suddenly unsure if the next one will be his last.

Across the aviary, Jason’s grip is tight around his sword—and his gaze locks with Orion’s. “Let. Him. Go.”

Orion has the nerve to laugh. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

It’s subtle at first—but Nico sees it. The hand on the limp body of an Amazon suddenly twitches.

Orion’s grip suddenly tightens around Nico’s throat, and his bellow suffocates the room more than darkness. He yanks his shiny dagger and raises it in his free hand. “Let’s see who’s more of a _man_ , boy. Will you make it to me before I kill the son of Jupiter?”

Another body twitches at Jason’s feet, and—

“Jason,” Nico wheezes sharply. “ _No—_ ”

“Bottoms up, kid,” Orion says—and he slams Nico’s head into the cement floor again. Nico shouts in soundless pain, and Orion lowers his dagger.

A crackling arrow splits through the air, glowing against the darkness caused by the son of Hades before a footstep could ever be made. It pierces through Orion’s other eye—“ _GAH!”—_ which suddenly lights aflame like fireworks as he falls backwards, blinded.

Nico gasps for air—and suddenly, he’s out of danger and in Jason’s arms. He tries to reorient himself with the battlefield—to see how many Amazons and Huntresses have fallen in comparison to wolves—but all eyes are elsewhere.

At the height of the aviary is a new beacon of light—electricity hissing through the rod of an arrow.

“ _WHO?!”_ Orion demands—and the ichor spills out of his eye sockets like golden tears.

“ _WOOF!”_

He’s deafened at the sound of a warm bark that causes the rest of the room to vibrate. A mastiff the size of a tank sits at the foot of the aviary.

The archer at its mount makes Nico forget everything else. A silver circlet rests across her forehead like a tiara, while she donned a parka much warmer than the camo worn by the other huntresses. Beneath that is a warm yellow dress and brown booties.

Eyes of daylight and braided hair of blackest night.

“Jace is right,” Bianca says, nocking another lightning-filled arrow. “You should’ve let go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) If you haven't yet, please check out this canon/crossover story i just posted, [Over the Rainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27428083)!


	13. happiest place on earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which is how they end up in Disney World.
> 
> No, really.

There’s rage in Bianca’s eyes.

Crackling, thunderous rage that sheathes the moonlight from above and covets the darkness Jason set across the aviary. The birds are screeching, their feathers flying everywhere—but this time it sounds like a chant against the chaos. Jason saw it with the cuckoo birds as the flock tried to escape with Nico—but he sees their loyalty even more now, beneath the daughter of the Heavens.

“ _DAUGHTER OF ZEUS!”_ Orion screams. His head shoots in different directions, eyeholes bleeding with gold ichor. His giant wolves howl—and charge while he’s flailing, dagger in hand. _“I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD!”_

“Is that,” Nico suddenly murmurs, snapping Jason’s attention away, “a giant dog?”

“Long story,” Jason supplies—and suddenly, Bianca’s gaze connects with his own. Jason’s chest tightens—

—and the battle rages on.

“ _Mrs. O’Leary_ ,” Bianca orders, “ _Bite._ ”

Her arrows set ablaze with electricity. Two arrows pierce one wolf—crackling with a booming noise as the wolf screeches in pain. Mrs. O’Leary bulldozes past four more.

“You’re next.” Bianca and Mrs. O’Leary charge across the length of the aviary—and the giant hellhound barrels into the Hunter Giant.

Orion is staggering—but the moment Bianca and Mrs. O’Leary are in his immediate radius, he counteracts the hellhound’s mouth with his dagger.

“I may be blind,” Orion snarls, “but don’t think I can’t sniff out the ugly scent of two children of Zeus and a son of Hades, you _stupid girl._ ”

“I don’t go by that anymore.” Bianca raises from Mrs. O’Leary’s back, an arrow nocked—and aims it straight at Orion’s head.

She never gets the chance to strike. Orion reaches into his belt with his other hand and pulls out another hunting knife—roughly the size of one of Mrs. O’Leary’s claws. He drives it into Mrs. O’Leary’s snout.

“ _ARFFF_!” Mrs. O’Leary lets out a bloodcurdling shriek and flails backwards, Bianca still on her back.

“Amazons!” Hylla commands—and she steadies herself to her feet, hoarse from Orion’s earlier bind. “To battle!”

“Huntresses!” Zoe orders. “Help thy sister!”

As Mrs. O’Leary and Bianca gather their bearings, Amazons and Huntresses encircle Orion like two halves of a moon, forming a fortress between the daughter of Zeus and her hellhound. Mrs. O’Leary shakes her head, body following in suit—and growls bravely at the Hunter Giant.

Everyone else comes running from all other directions.

“Bianca!” Zoe rejoices—and she grins happily for the first time all day. “Thou hath escaped death!”

“Bianca,” Jason interjects—and he ignores how quickly Zoe’s smile twists into a disdainful sneer. “We should leave.”

Hylla makes an abhorrent sound—but the bruises are palpable against her throat. “Are you _crazy_ , Grace? We could have Orion’s head tonight!”

“Orion can only be killed by a demigod and god working together,” Jason protests. “Unless one of those magically appears, every Huntress and Amazon he slays tonight is fodder for him. You’ve already lost too many Amazons, Queen Hylla. You too, Zoe.”

Zoe scowls angrily, her copper skin warming with rage. “And _who_ is to blame for my defenseless Huntresses, _son of Hades_?”

“You!” Nico suddenly snaps from Jason’s arms—and he’s thrown into a coughing fit, hand bawled against Jason’s shirt.

“Nico.” Bianca’s voice is softer than when addressing the Hunter Giant. Her eyes rise—and she locks onto Jason’s—blue and electrifying. There’s a fierceness there—something Jason thinks lacked before she came back to life, but he can’t quite place the reasoning behind it.

Orion fights through the Huntresses and Amazons, eye sockets bleeding of gold ichor as he blindly swipes his knife. He throws an Amazon off of him as she throws his body towards him—and slams the butt of his blade into a Huntress’s head.

“Orion!” Bianca shouts—and she straightens her legs over Mrs. O’Leary. Through sound alone, Orion turns his head, looking directly at their small group. “You’ve slain my sisters and Amazons alike! By all means, I _welcome_ your trysts! If you’re _man_ enough—bring my head to Gaea, or _gladly_ die trying.”

_“RAAAGH!”_ Orion screams—and he kicks through Amazons and Huntresses alike with minimal struggle.

“Jace.” Bianca rears her head back to Jason, her hands curled in Mrs. O’Leary’s fur. His name is intense on her tongue—gaze sharp, and she strokes Mrs. O’Leary’s head. Mrs. O’Leary croons. “Let’s go.”

A wave of shock washes over Zoe’s face. “Bianca—”

They dissolve into the shadows—not a second look given to Lieutenant Nightshade, or her Huntresses.

*

It happens in a sequence. Slip into the shadows, cruise northbound where Uncle Gleeson and the Athena Parthenos are—grab the old goat by the hoof (Uncle Gleeson bleated several curses that weren’t for the faint of heart)—and keep going.

Jason’s grip is tight over Nico, who wobbles in his arms while Mrs. O’Leary and Bianca are painting a path in front of them in the darkness. Each bark is a soundwave that trembles against Jason’s flesh—and he’s focused this time. He doesn’t let himself be anything less—not with Nico groaning so feebly.

Which is how they end up in Disney World.

No, really.

They sprout right in front of a security guard—who shines a flashlight at Mrs. O’Leary and the Athena Parthenos, mutters something about a _new exhibit_ , and slowly turns around to inspect another part of the park.

“What the—kid—Jason! You found Nico!” Uncle Gleeson shouts with elation. And then, his voice hiccups. “di Angelo?”

Bianca smiles faintly. “Hey, Coach.”

“No time,” Jason says. He speeds up to a map and seeks out the nearest first aid center. “This way.”

“Jace—”

“Not now,” Jason cuts off. He holds Nico close as tightly as he can and sprints towards the first aid center, Nico’s pulse pressed against his thumb. Jason goes into autopilot, scanning the other demigod for open wounds and bruises as he lays Nico on a cot.

Nico stirs softly—a gentle sound fumbling from his lips, and he raises a gaze. “Jason?”

“How’s your head?” The anger coils in Jason’s stomach—and the scene of Orion slamming Nico’s head into the ground replays in his head. He grips the edge of the cot tightly.

The son of Jupiter’s lips curl into a wry little smile and he taps the gold headguard. “Helmet.”

“Stay with me,” Jason orders. “You might have a concussion.”

There’s a knock at the window—which is when Jason realizes he shadowtraveled into the center without a second thought. Bianca stares from the other side, with Uncle Gleeson on the tip of his hooves.

“What can I do?” she asks, when Jason pulls up both the window and screen.

Jason stares at her, trying to process her words. Bianca’s expression is grave and serious, her eyebrows furrowed together as they stare at each other—and Nico’s cough brings him back to reality. “I need all of the ambrosia and nectar you have.”

They scamper off in the opposite direction while Jason reaches to wash his hands.

“You,” Nico mumbles softly behind him, “didn’t reanimate anyone, did you?”

Jason freezes. And again, he thinks of Orion’s hands coiled against Nico’s collar. The surge of anger flutters in him like filling a mold—and he remembers the rage bubbling in him—after _finally_ getting Nico back. After _finally_ having Nico wake up.

He would’ve killed everyone in that room if it meant keeping Nico safe.

And he would’ve regretted it, immediately. He would have _burned_ with shame.

_No_ , Nico had warned, bruised and battered and at the brink of consciousness.

“I—” Jason stares at his own hands, and despite all of the stress coiling in his stomach, there’s also fear. His hands twitch. “No, I-I didn’t.”

“Good,” Nico mutters from the cot.

Jason swallows hard, quenched by that terror. The anger and frustration that set ablaze in him as he stood there watching Nico get hurt. Fury burned in him familiarly. Too familiarly.

He’s cut off before he can dwell on his thoughts. Nico makes a sound as he props himself up against the cot—and Jason is quick to return to his side.

“Nico—steady.” Jason rushes back to the cot, where the other demigod is already trying to unclasp his chestplate. He’s swift to help Nico out of it, while Nico’s motions are dulled and slow, gaze distant.

“Had a hard time moving,” Nico mutters under his breath, his voice croaky. Then he raises his gaze back to the window, saying nothing.

Jason follows his gaze—and watches as the di Angelo siblings stare at each other from the first aid center. Bianca’s mouth is parted, her eyes filled with a thousand words—yet she says nothing. There’s a bag half-full of ambrosia squares in her hands. As Jason turns his gaze back to Nico, he notices a similar expression. Dazed.

They’ve come a long way, Jason thinks, from their first meeting where they both recounted Bianca di Angelo’s death.

“Here,” she suddenly sputters. Bianca climbs through the window hands the ambrosia off. As she holds it out to Nico, the other demigod slowly turns his gaze to Jason, evidently unsure of what to say.

“Thanks,” Jason says quietly. “Why don’t you get some water?”

Bianca looks hesitant to leave her little brother—but she nods. All the while, Nico’s gaze follows after his big sister—the one with eyes as blue as his own and hair as dark as night.

“I’m not dreaming,” Nico mumbles. “Am I?”

Jason can’t pinpoint the emotion in Nico’s voice. For the most part, it’s exhaustion. The secondary emotion, however—he’s not sure where to place it.

“Eat first,” he says instead. He kneels over the cot and hands a piece of ambrosia over to the other demigod.

Nico stares blearily at the baked good before eating it out of Jason’s hand. He clears his throat effortfully—and again, is thrown into a frightful coughing fit. A hand taps on Jason’s shoulder—and Bianca holds out a canteen, gaze still fixated on her brother.

“Thank you,” Jason says again—and he helps Nico sip the water. It’s a slow process, alternating between ambrosia and water—but eventually the swelling shrinks and bruises seem to disappear. There isn’t a new assortment of cuts.

Jason rifles through the cabinets and finds a Tinkerbell-patterned icepack to fill and place on Nico’s head.

“That’s probably enough,” Jason whispers as Nico stares at the remaining bit of an ambrosia square.

Nico leans into him each time he returns to the cot—and slowly, those eyes flutter shut.

A sigh of relief leaves Jason’s mouth. His shoulders heave. He pulls a stool beneath him—finally allowing himself to rest knowing Nico is safe.

*

Nico stirs not too long after that. His eyes scrunch together, breathing coming more audibly than before—and his hands twitch. Slowly his eyes open, hand quick to brush hair out of his own face as he blearily looks around—and Jason stands to his feet.

“Hey,” Jason whispers softly. He inspects the other demigod as best he can, hand raising to inspect the bump in Nico’s head. Then, the fading bruises on the side of Nico’s face, on his shoulders—and most importantly, his leg.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs back—and his voice is gravelly. “How long was I out?”

“Three hours.” Bianca’s voice cuts through Jason’s inspection.

Nico visibly tenses—but Jason doesn’t turn to face her until he’s done with his scrutiny.

“Jace,” Bianca urges again. This time, Jason does raise his head to meet her gaze. “You’ve been sitting in that stool for three hours.”

Gone is the silver circlet from her head. There’s no sign of the parka that belonged to the huntresses. Instead, Bianca stares back at them, her long hair braided carefully over the collar of her dress and gaze soft.

Neither of them responds right away. Then—

“You haven’t slept?” Nico asks. He tears his gaze away from his sister, looking up at Jason with a cognizance that was lacking before—when he was struggling to get the armor off of himself.

“Mmfine,” Jason murmurs, and his head turns slowly to meet Nico’s gaze again. Once they lock eyes, Nico visibly twitches.

“Jace—” Bianca touches him on the arm—and before Jason can help it, he’s wedging himself between the di Angelo siblings as though they’re still in combat. Bianca stares at him, startled, while Jason’s grip is tight on Nico’s hand—ready to shadowtravel out of danger.

“Jason,” Nico says next—and his voice is gentle. His hand curls beneath Jason’s own. “Where’s Coach?”

Jason whirls his head back at the mention of his name. Nico stares back at him, filled with the same worry from the Amazon facility. Jason keeps staring, scared that if he pulls away for even an instant, Nico will slip between his fingers.

“With Mrs. O’Leary,” Bianca interjects—and Nico’s gaze raises to meet hers. There’s something in his eyes—reluctance. Jason thinks he’s seen it once before, but it’s been a long time.

Not since their first meeting—when Nico di Angelo was averse to meet Ambassador Grace and his new sister, Hazel Levesque. When Jason uttered the phrase, _Bianca is dead_ , and Nico brushed it off with an acceptance Jason himself was still trying to find.

“Who?” Nico asks hoarsely—and his gaze defaults to a surprised Jason.

“Um,” Jason mutters quietly. “My dog.”

The corner of Bianca’s lips raises awkwardly. “I think at this point we have joint ownership over her, Jace.”

It’s a light joke. Jason can’t bring himself to laugh. Instead, he rubs the sleep out of his face and takes in Nico’s reaction. A tentative gaze at his big sister, while his hand is still safely protected beneath Jason’s own. Nico reanimates slowly, swinging his feet off the cot to stand to his feet. Jason reacts, propping the other demigod up like a crutch.

Bianca has her own reaction. She stands straighter with each of Nico’s movements, a smile curling against her lips and gaze shimmering as they lock eyes.

Under Jason’s grasp, he can feel Nico tensing. Nico clears his throat. “Let’s regroup and figure out the game plan from here.”

His gaze darts to Jason momentarily—clearly finding more comfort in the son of Hades rather than his own sister.

Jason can’t help but share that sentiment.

“Yeah,” Bianca replies, and she continues to stare at him, smiling. “Good plan.”

Nico shifts uncomfortably under Jason’s grasp—and says nothing else.

They find Uncle Gleeson sitting outside with Mrs. O’Leary. She raises an ear to their footsteps, and immediately trots over to them, big black eyes glittering with happiness at the sight of her owner.

“ _WOOF!!”_ she says, and it echoes around the empty park. Jason isn’t too sure what the security guards think they hear—maybe an elephant or something from the Magic Kingdom. The sound of her bark vibrates against his skin—and then he notices Nico staring at her in both confusion and awe.

“Giant dog,” Nico mutters under his breath, evidently still trying to gather his bearings.

“Good girl,” Bianca interjects—and she appears between them to pet the hellhound’s snout. Mrs. O’Leary is eager, however, and she directs her attention Jason.

Jason gets an entirely wet nose pressed against his skin, sniffing and inhaling him like the suction of a vacuum cleaner. The sudden jolt of energy forces Jason to relinquish his embrace on Nico—and instead, he reaches out to touch her face. Mrs. O’Leary gives him a lovely tongue bath, licking him from head to toe with a velocity that causes Jason to stumble.

“Okay, okay—” Jason’s laugh is soft and withered. Through his exhaustion, Jason can’t hold his somber gaze. He breaks into a smile as she assaults him with affection and raises his hands to cradle her head. “I missed you too, girl.”

Mrs. O’Leary squeaks with delight, her tail wagging in the air like an updraft—then she immediately shifts her inspection to Nico. Nico fumbles as a snout suddenly burrows into him—and his hand finds Jason’s bicep to steady himself.

“ _Ergh_ ,” Nico groans—but other than looking mildly unsettled by a basketball-sized wet nose in his face, he doesn’t seem bothered. A clumsy smile curls against his lips, and he raises his gaze to meet Jason’s own. His gaze falls to the unwitting gesture between them and—while Jason can’t see Nico’s face beneath the stars, he feels the hand pull away. “Um. Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Jason reassures.

“ _WOOF!”_ Mrs. O’Leary bellows. She launches onto her front paws, and the ground vibrates as she skitters left and right for playtime.

“Playful thing, isn’t she?” Nico murmurs.

“You won’t meet a nicer monster,” Jason reassures—and he’s charmed by the way Nico seems to perk at that explanation.

“You must smell like Jace.” Bianca’s voice cuts between them once more—and both demigods raise to meet her gaze. She welcomes them both with a smile—but Jason can’t help feeling self-conscious again. A heartbeat passes between all three of them. Nico’s hand falls from Mrs. O’Leary’s snout—and he refuses to make eye contact with his big sister.

Jason notices immediately. His gaze flits between both di Angelo siblings. Before he has the chance to comment, Uncle Gleeson runs up to them, arms splayed—and he throws them over Nico.

“You had me worried!” the old satyr sobs—and his bark is much more anxious than their hellhound’s. “No more kidnappings for a _month_!”

Nico looks up, baffled, but he raises a hand and pats Uncle Gleeson on the shoulder. “Same to you, coach.”

Uncle Gleeson reels back with a loud sniffle—and they get a good look at him for the first time. In place of his normal baseball cap is a pair of Mickey Mouse ears. The corner of his polo shows the little mascot himself—and the old satyr hides his hooves with Donald Duck feet.

“Wow,” he remarks. He squints between Bianca and Nico. “No wonder the scary ladies kidnapped you, di Angelo! You two look like you could be twins!”

Both Bianca and Nico instinctively turn to face one another—and Jason’s thrown back to that first meeting again. He knows what it’s like searching that face to find remnants of Bianca. Those azure blue eyes and warm olive skin. The same nose, same smile. Even the way they stand idly feels the same, but—

“Nico and Bianca are very different from each other, Uncle Gleeson,” Jason says—and his voice is tired again. He notices Nico slowly unfurl from his ball of tension—and both siblings stare at him. Nico doesn’t look like he wants to add onto Uncle Gleeson’s comment. Bianca doesn’t seem to know _what_ to add.

Jason’s seen it many times over the years: the daughter of Zeus who was also the daughter of the Queen—delicate in image, but regal in power. Her stature is straight and poised, her gaze wondrous as she takes in her brother. Zoe might’ve reveled in the idea of having such a powerful demigoddess as her righthand, but she never saw the full image of Bianca di Angelo.

And Nico—Jason’s seen that look of discomfort before. The pensiveness built around his demeanor, and the tight way his eyebrows just seems to furrow. Jason’s been at the receiving end of it for months now—first because of the sister standing beside them, second because of the Queen of the Gods.

Thirdly—he’s seen the same anger strike their faces as they realize what was caused by their father.

Jason bites back a sigh. He hardly notices Nico’s gaze pique with curiosity at his expression.

“Jason,” Nico stares slowly, “you look—”

“You cupcakes must be hungry!” Out of nowhere, Uncle Gleeson whips out hotdogs covered in mac and cheese. Jason has no idea where his uncle found an open vendor at this time of night (whatever time it was)—but he doesn’t question it. His growling stomach answers the old satyr’s claim.

They sit in an arena of tables called _Relaxation Station_ to eat, with Disney World’s giant castle glowing with luminescence behind them. For all of the energy Mrs. O’Leary had moments ago, she encircles a spot, causing all of the nearby tables to hop—then plops to her side, defeated.

Jason and Nico stare at the giant hellhound—who lets out a slow, resonating yawn—then falls asleep.

“She’s exhausted,” Bianca notes—and her smile has just a little less vigor to it as they go on. “We’ve been tracking you down for the last couple of weeks now.”

Weeks. Bianca’s been looking for _weeks._ Jason eats through his hotdog slowly and notices Nico picking halfheartedly at the mac and cheese on his paper container. He raises his gaze back to his old best friend, who stares at him just as nervously.

“How long have you been alive again, Bianca?” he asks.

Nico’s blue eyes lifting skeptically.

Bianca’s own blue eyes stare back at Jason, and a smile curls tiredly against her lips. “How long have you been out of Tartarus, Jace?”

Not long enough. Too many nightmares, too many voices in his head. If Jason closes his eyes, he’s afraid he’ll wake back up in the pits of hell.

Nico answers when Jason has been silent for too long. “I…thought you said Bianca wasn’t in Tartarus. That Luke and she were just ghosts.”

At the mention of Luke’s name, Jason notices Bianca’s demeanor shift with worry. He’s quick to shake his head.

“That was a ghost,” Jason reaffirms. Then—“Not a ghost. A hallucination.”

Every _good_ thing in Jason’s life was a hallucination down in Tartarus, to show every _bad_ thing.

“I,” Jason says softly, redirecting the subject before Luke can be an issue again, “still don’t quite understand how you got out. You were supposed to be at peace. Your soul made it to Elysium.”

She stares at him now in confusion. “You summoned me.”

Jason stares back, equally at a loss.

“You called my name right before they stuffed you in the jar,” Bianca continues.

“You didn’t show up,” Jason rebuts—and his voice is tight. So much so that Nico’s gaze darts back to him. Jason’s face flushes, and he tries to keep his voice even. He pushes the hair out of his face and crosses his arms over his chest, trying hard to keep his attention and emotions separate. “We talked about this.”

“You woke up before I could give you an explanation.” Bianca smiles back at him, poised.

“You two have been conversing,” Nico interjects—and he stares between the two of them, chary. “In your dreams.”

His gaze lingers longer than Jason expects—but Jason isn’t sure why. Bianca is evidently fine filling in the gaps of their conversation—which has a lot. Nico seems reluctant to interject. Jason doesn’t know _what_ to add to this conversation. And—something nags at him.

“Not necessarily,” she says—and then she launches into an explanation. “I… _was_ in Elysium. The first thing I did was—”

Her expression shifts—to that little girl that desperately hoped that her little brother had beat her to Camp Halfblood. There’s remorse glittering in her eyes as she turns to meet Nico—and Nico evidently doesn’t know what to do with it.

“The first thing I did was try to find you,” she says softly, her voice filled with sweet yearning that fills a mold in Jason’s ears—something that he’s heard so many times over the years. “I looked for as long as I could. Jace and I thought—maybe—maybe you chose reincarnation. You were so young when the casino collapsed—but…there was always a possibility. I hoped you ended up there.”

The image of twelve-year-old Jason and Bianca come to mind—taking a detour from their quest to save Annabeth from Atlas’s clutches. Jason’s hand twitches uncomfortably on his lap. He remembers feeling absolute worry for the daughter of Athena—but Bianca begged and pleaded to return to the ruins of the casino in Nevada. To find what could be left of her little brother.

Hera had found them instead. She paved an unintended path for her daughter—one that neither Jason nor the Queen of the Gods saw coming at the edge of Bianca’s sixteenth birthday.

“I found out you never died,” Bianca continues, and her voice is soft. She reaches out—and Nico shirks away from her touch almost instinctively. There’s a pause as they register what happened—and slowly, Nico lets her touch his arm, where his legion tattoo rests. “I found out that there were _two_ camps. Greek and Roman.”

“There’s no civil war in Elysium,” Nico surmises quietly, He pulls his hand away—but it’s hard to miss how he suddenly rubs his tattoo. “Mammina—”

Bianca perks.

“Juno,” Nico corrects himself—though there’s an awkward hiccup as he does so, his cheeks flushing with clear discomfort, “told Reyna that she wanted her families to be reunited again.”

Her lips lift into a wider smile. “Family is with you in life—”

“—and in death,” Nico finishes. They stare at each other meaningfully—but Jason can’t quite figure out what’s going on in either of their heads. He’s known Bianca long enough to understand how long she’s waited for the day to reunite with her brother—but he’d stopped knowing after she left with the Huntresses. Probably long before that.

And—Jason is more confused as Nico looks at _him_ instead. He’s not sure what Nico is looking for—an answer, maybe? Guidance? Eventually, Nico’s gaze falls back down to his tattoo, and the worry tugs at Jason’s chest.

“So how did we get here?” Jason asks—and he thinks he’s met with the same storm of emotions as Bianca turns her gaze to meet him.

“You called my name from Tartarus,” she repeats. “I heard you. It’s…a long story, but my spirit showed up where you called me. I just—I assumed it was a son of Hades thing.”

Jason’s cheeks tingle. Trust his powers to do something unexpected when his emotions were at a high. Unexpected didn’t mean _good_ —but. He’s still trying to figure out if this unexpected means _bad._

“I’m…sorry?” he offers—and Bianca looks torn between arching an eyebrow and laughing. Nico very much does the first one.

“You must have been close to the doors already when you called my name. I didn’t see much of Tartarus.” Bianca hugs herself, and the Peter Pan collar wrinkles around her collarbone. “But I managed to get out. I tried to find you, but the Doors spit me out elsewhere. Mrs. O’Leary was already nearby when I woke up.”

Jason’s chest tightens. He slowly turns his head back to the hellhound, who’s laying on her side and fast asleep. Her snoring sounds like a buzzsaw.

“We searched everywhere for you,” she continues. “I thought we might’ve had a lead in Split, but you were gone by the time we got there.”

Jason bites back a grimace at the mention of _that_ town. Nico notices.

“We were on a boat,” Nico says, filling in a silence that Jason’s throat is too dry to quench.

Bianca stares at them, puzzled. “A son of Jupiter and a son of Hades on a boat?”

“The boat flies,” Nico continues—though his tone is stiff. “The Argo II.”

“The Argo II,” she repeats—and she lights up at the name before fondly turning back to their son of Hades. “Like Jason and the Argonauts.”

Jason tries to muster a smile. His fingers curl against his paper carton, unable to keep his gaze at his best friend. “Something like that.”

“Something must’ve happened when you got off the boat. Mrs. O’Leary had an easier time locking onto your scent. We dreamed about each other.” Bianca turns her gaze back to her little brother, the edges of her lips etching a little higher. “You and I dreamed about each other too. About Mama, and Mammina—”

“That was in the past,” Nico blurts out—and the intensity of his voice makes Jason turn his head. Red flushes across Nico’s cheeks, startled by the influx of attention—and he averts his gaze. The chair scrapes across the cement floor as he stands to his feet. “Sorry. I’m just—I’m going to go wash my hands.”

He shows the bits of cheese staining the pads of his fingers as proof, exasperated, then slowly walks to the restroom with a slight gait.

Jason watches until Nico’s silhouette shrinks to nothing in the distance.

“Why doesn’t he just lick his hooves?” Uncle Gleeson shakes his head in disbelief and stuffs a hand in his mouth.

“He’s so much bigger,” Bianca whispers—and suddenly her gaze returns to Jason, nostalgic. “I barely recognized him.”

“A lot has changed.” Jason’s hand jerks awkwardly in his lap and he turns back to Bianca—who looks overeager to please and yet still disappointed by the turn of events. Her gaze locks onto Jason’s own—and he notices something about the way she looks. It’s startlingly familiar—but it isn’t a shared remnant of their past. “I’m…going to make sure he’s okay.”

Bianca looks confused.

“He’s been taking a beating these past few days,” Jason elaborates. “I need to—I just want—Nico should be okay. I just want to check.”

She nods, but Jason can tell that she’s disappointed that their reunion has been cut short.

He finds Nico sitting cross legged over an ornate counter in the men’s bathroom. The walls are painted in fun colors, with little hidden mickeys painted against the walls. Nico is staring off at restroom tiles. He tugs at one of the band-aids on his arms.

Jason clears his throat to announce his presence. Nico blinks slowly—but turns to meet his gaze.

“Do…you need help?” Jason asks.

“With what?” Nico asks, his voice distant—but then his gaze narrows at Jason, puzzled. “Peeing?”

Red blooms in Jason’s cheeks. He tries for a quiet laugh—but it’s as awkward to his ears as it feels. The restroom door closes behind him with a quiet shuffle. “Maybe not that.”

“Sorry,” Nico whispers—and the tone of his voice is as soft as his sister’s. “I’ll come back out in a second. I’m. Processing.”

_Tell me about it_ , Jason wants to say. “Yeah. I get it.”

Nico’s gaze darts back to him—observant. If Jason’s learned anything from the delivery of the _Juno_ news, Nico isn’t one to talk right away. Maybe Nico is—for Thalia, or Reyna, or Percy—but Jason knows he’s not one of those people.

“I…get what you’re going through,” Jason tries again—and he thinks about the way Bianca kept looking at Nico. “A few months ago, I didn’t know I had a sister.”

The look on Nico’s face is telling. He blinks, evidently trying to absorb this piece of information—and stares back at Jason.

“It’s… _weird_ ,” Jason continues—and he tries to recount _that_ first meeting, too. Being dragged into the principia by a wary son of Jupiter and finding another child of his father’s sitting on the other side of the office. Jason doesn’t know _what_ he expected when Hades told him about both camps—back then, it felt as pointless as the inedible cupcake that was given on his sixteenth birthday.

Jason wanted reprieve. He wanted not to fight anymore. He wanted to be normal—whatever that was actually supposed to feel like.

For all of the envy he held when Bianca used to talk about her little brother, Jason didn’t know what he signed up for when he stepped into that office.

Unconditional love. Someone who knew what it was like to have the King of the Dead as their father—and someone who actually knew him before that prophecy was at the forefront of his life—someone who loved him for all of him, like his father advised.

“Very weird,” Nico murmurs—and he’s reluctant to look towards the exit—where Bianca lay behind the door. His lips curl into a discomforted frown, and he fiddles with one of his shoelaces. Slowly, his gaze falls to his tattooed arm—where Bianca had touched him.

Where his big sister’s fingers brushed against him for the first time in five years.

“I’m…here, Nico,” Jason says. “If you want to talk about it.”

Nico’s gaze rises to him—so undecipherable to Jason. Thalia would have a better gauge of Nico’s emotions, Jason thinks—but they established a long time ago they aren’t their sisters. Jason had sought comfort in Bianca’s company for as long as Nico found it in Thalia’s.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Jason says—backing off instead. “I told you in France. We can talk about it, we can _not_ talk about it. I’m just—I’m glad you’re okay.”

Okay and _alive_ , after another scary event where Jason closed his eyes, only to wake up to another living nightmare.

“You were going to say something before Orion showed up,” Nico says, and his gaze narrows at Jason. It’s not accusatory—just curious. “About my sister. Did you know about her?”

Jason shakes his head. “Nothing that wasn’t already said.”

“You dreamed about her.” 

“I thought she was haunting me like Luke.”

Nico sits straighter on the restroom counter, his lips curling into a frown. The gesture is so abrupt that Jason stares back, at a loss of what to say. Slowly, Nico shrinks against his seat.

“Sorry,” Nico murmurs slowly. “With—everything that happened, I forgot you were dreaming about him again.”

“We weren’t exactly talking.” Jason’s lips raise into a tired smile—and he notices Nico shifting awkwardly. “It’s fine, Nico.”

“It’s not, Jason.” Nico’s voice is tight. He stares back—and suddenly the discomfort for his sister is replaced by something else. While Nico clung to the memory of Jason’s words before Orion’s arrival, Jason thinks back to moments before—when the son of Jupiter was still steaming after a painful conversation with smug Zoe Nightshade. “You need to stop saying that.”

He stares at Jason with the same eyes as before. Poignant and narrowed—with the edge of his lip twitching downwards.

Jason can’t help feeling confused. So he repeats his sentiment from before.

“I’m…okay, Nico,” he says slowly. He walks the length of the bathroom stall to get closer to Nico—to stand parallel to one another. When Nico’s gaze becomes too intense, Jason can’t help but look at the ground instead. “This—Bianca, on top of Juno, and your powers acting up…I know it’s a lot.”

Nico stares back at him, his lips pressed into a straight line. His eyebrows furrow together.

“This,” Nico repeats, his voice soft, “on top of the Huntresses, the empousai—and having to fight again is a lot.”

Jason blinks, at a loss—but Nico simply continues.

“You look like you haven’t slept in _days_ ,” Nico goes on, and his voice riddles with a concern that’s foreign to Jason. “You were never supposed to fight. Zoe was _insulting_ you. The empousai got in your head and _made_ you hurt me. _Them_ —”

Nico is quick to emphasize the last part.

“Not you,” he says—and Jason’s eyes slowly fall to the bandages at Nico’s leg—the whole reason why he’s been limping since France. 

“I’m…fine, Nico—”

“If you were fine,” Nico replies sharply, “then you wouldn’t have been on the brink of reanimating those corpses earlier.”

“Orion was about to _kill_ you,” Jason protests—and he’s shocked at the own ferocity of his voice as he defends himself. His choices. But Nico doesn’t waver—he stares at Jason, lips still curled into the same frown of concern.

Jason shrinks again in his own seat—because he knows Nico is right. Even half-conscious and disoriented, Nico had voiced the same concern—and the shock of it had caused him to freeze in the middle of nursing Nico back to health, too.

“What did you want me to do?” Jason asks in frustration. “I wasn’t going to bring you back to Thalia in a body bag, Nico.”

As frustrated as he is, Nico’s gaze is set on him. “I want you to treat your life with the same importance that you’re treating mine.”

Jason stares back, anxious—but suddenly, Nico’s gaze softens. Nico stares down at his shoelaces again, the eagle on his forearm so black and pristine that Jason could’ve guessed he got it today. But there’s a line through his arm from where the empousa cut him—as though making Nico’s link to Jupiter obsolete.

“If I look like I’m not sure how to handle Bianca,” Nico says softly, “it’s because I don’t. Thalia knew exactly what she was doing when she took me out of the casino. She knew how much I _needed_ to grieve.”

He pauses.

“You’re a lot like her, you know,” Nico continues. “Like Thalia.”

Jason takes this information cautiously, his eyebrows knitting together. His heart blooms at the thought of having _anything_ in common with his big sister—but something tells him that Nico doesn’t mean it as a compliment. “How?”

“You’re both selfless.” Nico untucks his legs from beneath himself and swings them over the counter. He stares at his feet, recounting a memory that Jason doesn’t know. “Thalia put so much time into making me feel better that she never let me do the same for her. She never once made me feel like I was unimportant.”

Jason thinks back to Nico’s words in Croatia. How protective Nico is of his big sister. _Their_ big sister—the one who poured all of her energy into protecting one little brother when she lost another.

“I _wish_ I could be there for Thalia the way she was for me,” Nico continues—and there’s a shame in his voice that’s foreign to Jason, too. He twitches, too, then looks back up to Jason. “But I asked you once to let me be that for you. What Bianca couldn’t.”

His words are firm, followed by his steady words. Jason hesitates—but he can’t pull away.

“I don’t want you to keep shutting yourself off every time something bad happens,” Nico continues. “You deserve to be heard, Jason.”

“I…” Jason’s throat dries. “I don’t know how to feel, Nico.”

“Tell me about it,” Nico urges.

Jason’s not sure how he’s supposed to elaborate on an _I don’t know_ —but the way Nico stares at him makes him think the other demigod won’t take anything less. Jason’s hands twitch at his sides—and he thinks back to that sinking feeling he had when Bianca first infiltrated the Amazon Distribution Center.

A lot had happened all at once—Orion showed up, Amazons and Huntresses were getting slaughtered left and right, Nico was getting hurt because of Jason, _again_. The rage filled Jason when he saw Nico in Orion’s clutches—like a storm overfilling a dam, ready to shatter the wall he’s spent so many months trying to rebuild. Zoe’s eyes had filled with anger and disgust—the same way they did the day she mourned her fallen huntresses in Manhattan—

But both their anger quelled when they saw Bianca di Angelo with a lightning arrow nocked against her bow.

Zoe was already celebrating the return of her huntress.

Jason was dreading it.

“Jason,” Nico says, when he’s been quiet for too long.

“She’s…not supposed to be alive,” Jason says finally. “The Doors of Death were closed for a reason. She’s supposed to be on the other side.”

His voice is raspy, and he’s unable to make it sound more real. It’s morose as he says it aloud. Jason doesn’t know how Nico will react. Maybe as frustrated as Nico was about Piper.

But—Nico holds his tongue patiently.

“The Doors of Death being in Gaea’s hands helped catapult us into war. We’ve made a lot of enemies because of all of the dead figures and monsters she coerced to her side.” Jason curls his hand over his bicep, unable to meet Nico’s gaze. “Freeing Thanatos meant he could collect all of the souls that escaped, including the ones that swore allegiance to Gaea, but…”

“But those aren’t the only souls that need to be returned to the Underworld,” Nico finishes for him, the realization evidently setting in.

“There are rules,” Jason continues—though reluctantly. “Bianca… _died._ She made it to Elysium. If she wanted another chance at life, my father has the ways set in the Underworld. Make it to Elysium three times, and—”

“And end up in the Isles of the Blessed,” Nico finishes for him. The corner of his lip twitches into an unhappy, tired smile when Jason stares back at him, puzzled. “You weren’t the only one who grew up hearing stories about the Underworld.”

“Right.” Jason can only wonder what his older sister would do in his position.

His relationship with his father has always been rough—between the way Hades’s name reeked with death and the Great Prophecy. Jason was frustrated with his upbringing as much as he wished for his father’s approval, after all of the things he’s done in Hades’s name.

And—upholding the delicate balance between life and death is a big one.

“We can make our way through this quest,” Jason says slowly, “but…eventually, someone will come for her soul.”

Nico’s gaze has long since fallen from Jason’s own. He’s playing with his beltloop again, burning holes into the bathroom tiles. “A psychopomp. Like Hermes.”

“Or Death himself. Yeah.” Jason sighs tiredly. “I…think so long as the gods are experiencing their splitting headaches, we can keep Bianca under the radar, but there’s no telling what will happen when we make it to camp. And—”

His pause is substantial. Nico glances back up, holding onto every word.

“And,” Jason continues softly, his eyebrows meshing together, “if someone doesn’t come for her soul, I’ll have to bring her down there myself.”

He feels worse for Nico, who pauses from fiddling with his belt loops. Nico’s expression slackens, but the frown is there.

“I’m,” Jason whispers, “so sorry, Nico—”

“No,” Nico interjects, his voice thick. He blinks quickly and clears his throat. “It’s. I.”

His voice shrivels.

“It’s not your fault,” he says steadily. Then he falls quiet again. “You should get some rest.”

Jason stares in confusion—but once the statement is made, Nico looks him in the eye again.

“But—”

“No,” Nico cuts him off. “No buts. Bianca or not, you’ve been run ragged ever since Bram Castle. You _need_ to get sleep, Jason. You’re not invincible.”

There’s finality in his voice. His gaze is firm as they lock eyes, and again, Jason is at a loss.

“I came in here to make sure you were okay with Bianca,” Jason says slowly. The mention of that makes Nico’s demeanor shift ever so slightly—but it returns to that first expression. Nico stares at Jason, with nothing else to pull his focus away.

“And I’m here,” Nico agrees softly, “to make sure you’re okay with her, too.”

Jason’s demeanor falters. “But—”

“I have a lot of feelings about my sister. She’s my sister,” Nico says, and his voice is distant. Slowly, he raises his gaze back to the door. “But she was your best friend, too. We both have…strong feelings about her.”

He pauses, his eyes dimming somberly. For as firm as strong as Nico’s tone is, Jason thinks Nico is struggling to stomach his words.

“Nico—”

“Whatever I’m feeling about my sister, I’ll have to talk to her about.” Nico’s gaze turns back to him, his eyebrows furrowing together with a quiet worry. “You should tell her how you’re feeling, like you did with Annabeth. But—”

He reaches out and places a hand on Jason’s shoulder. The touch is startling—but more importantly, it tethers Jason.

“—first you need to take care of yourself and rest,” Nico finishes softly, and he raises his gaze with concern. “Please. You’ve taken care of me these past few days. The least I can do is the same.”

“I…” Jason’s throat dries. He blinks, staring down at Nico in confusion. There’s no frustration in those eyes. Nico stares at Jason with the same resolve as right before Orion arrived.

“If you’re worried about nightmares,” Nico says, “I’m here. Coach Hedge is here. And—so is Bianca. Don’t bear this burden on your own, Jason.”

Jason hesitates—but Nico’s gaze is…comforting. Nico scoots off of the bathroom counter—stumbling ever so slightly that Jason reflexively reaches out to catch him. There’s a pause, as Nico wobbles, then—

“Sorry,” Nico mutters.

“Not a problem,” Jason repeats from earlier—and slowly, they make their way out of the restroom.

*

Bianca stands to her feet as she sees them returning—her shoulders nervously to her ears and her hands fumbling with one another. Nico pause before they ever make it back to the _Relaxation Station_ —and from the corner of his eye, Jason notices the other demigod’s expression tighten.

“I told her you two would come back,” Uncle Gleeson says dismissively. “You two stick to each other like bees to pollen.”

Jason doesn’t realize Nico is still leaning on him until the other demigod is pulling away. He thinks he _must_ be tired—Nico’s face is looking more pink than usual.

“Jason’s going to rest,” Nico declares. “We’re going to make sure _nothing_ gets in the way of that.”

The tone of his voice makes Jason flush. Bianca blinks, bewildered at this statement—but she nods slowly.

“Okay,” she agrees. Bianca meets Jason’s gaze momentarily, the concern evident in her eyes. Then she turns to her little brother, the corner of her lip curling into a tentative smile. “Guess that just leaves the two of us, Nico.”

Nico stares at his big sister, his expression shifting—but Jason doesn’t think she notices.

“And Coach Hedge,” Nico adds.

Bianca’s smile strengthens at the mention of the old satyr. “And Coach Hedge.”

Jason’s gaze shifts between their little group—to Uncle Gleeson happily eating the paper carton that their mac and cheese hotdogs came from, to Bianca’s hopeful smile—and Nico’s look of reluctance. Mrs. O’Leary is passed out on her side, on her last leg of energy. The Athena Parthenos is… _somewhere._ For all of the reasons Jason loathed the Huntresses, he’s glad they’ve made the Virgin Athena harder to find. And—Aurum and Argentum are happily tucked beneath a table, asleep—

Nico taps him on the arm. Jason doesn’t know what’s on his own face, but the other demigod pauses momentarily to look at him. “Come on.”

He makes Jason settle in a far corner of a teacup, insistent on folding up his purple cloak for Jason to use as a pillow.

“You really don’t have to do this,” Jason says slowly—but suddenly he’s being ushered to lay down, while Nico sits on the other side of the teacup.

“You’re doing me a favor if I don’t have to wear that thing,” Nico promises. Jason could laugh.

Multicolored lanterns hang above their heads in various shapes and sizes. The floorboard is a giant, crazy spiral, and each cup is painted with indiscriminate squiggles. Jason thinks between the whimsy and chaos, there’s a thin line where he’s not supposed to go mad.

His eyelids are heavy.

“So,” Nico whispers softly, “now what?”

If he had more energy, Jason would laugh. Instead, he curls his hands over his stomach, puzzled. “I…think I’m just supposed to close my eyes.”

“If it were that easy, you wouldn’t be avoiding it so much,” Nico chides—and Jason flushes.

“You…mentioned something about your mom reading you bedtime stories?”

“Something tells me Dracula is the _last_ thing you want to hear.”

“Something else then.” Jason’s eyes squeeze shut slowly—then a thought occurs to him. “Uncle Gleeson said you were in the mafia?”

Nico makes a disgruntled sound. “Just because I’m Italian doesn’t mean I’m in the _mafia._ ”

“Right. Sorry. That’s…just. I’ve…never seen anyone actually command a flock of birds like…”

“Like a Roman Army?” Nico finishes for him, his voice wry—though not angered.

“Yeah,” Jason finishes—though he decides not to push his luck.

Nico twitches. “I don’t know. Must be a son of Jupiter thing. Birds just like me. Like Percy and horses, and you and the dead.”

Jason’s not sure if _dead people_ and _horses_ and _birds_ are an amicable comparison—but he’s learned just how at ease Nico is with this fact. He has no doubt it’s from being raised with Thalia, but—other things stick out to him too.

Just… _how_ emphatic Nico has been that the empousai weren’t his fault. How quickly he came to Jason’s defense when it came to the Huntresses—and how insistent he is to keep Jason safe.

“Percy made me strike a chicken once,” Nico mutters—to which Jason makes a sound.

_“What_?”

“I was ten. There’s this game, Legend of Zelda,” Nico begins. “When you strike the chicken in the game—”

“Percy made you strike a chicken,” Jason interjects in disbelief, “to see if a flock of chickens would swarm you like the cuckoos in Legend of Zelda?”

Nico is silent for a moment, then flummoxed. “You know about cuckoos?”

“It’s one of two _arcade games_ the Big House has. I…had a crush on Link when I was little. And Zelda.” Jason flushes, and he notices Nico quirk an eyebrow of amusement. “It was either them or Pacman and Ms. Pacman.”

That fact apparently catches Nico off guard. He stares—then ducks his head with a soft laugh that warms Jason’s chest. It’s a first—wistful and sweet. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever made Nico laugh before—but it makes sense if it’s because of Percy.

The di Angelos enjoyed life as best as they could after the Lotus Casino. Jason found a friend—a confidante who understood the frustrations of the Great Prophecy. Someone who _strived_ to be normal and separated from the life of a demigod.

Jason tried his best to be a placeholder where Bianca lost her brother, until she descended on a path where she walked alone. _Away_ from all of it. From the title of Daughter of Zeus, Daughter of Hera. She relinquished a prophecy as easily as blowing dandelion seeds into the wind, trying to move forward when dwelling on the past and living the present hurt too much.

Thalia made sure Nico would never have to dwell. Reyna only felt at ease in the presence of a Daughter of Zeus and eagerly chose her for the quest to free Juno. Percy clung to Nico the moment he stepped aboard the Argo II—and all three of them called on a constant basis. Not once, in the last five years, have they ever let Nico feel like he was without a sister.

“Anyway—the chickens thought it was training. For a war to come.” Nico shakes his voice light, but expression still wry as he reminisced.

Jason tries to imagine a flock of chickens dressed like a Roman Army—with a gladius at their sides and imperial gold armor. It’s a little easier to, considering the way the cuckoos responded to an unconscious Nico like they were on a retrieval mission. Again, he shakes his head in disbelief.

“So Percy poked the birds to see if they would fall in line or attack you,” Jason surmises.

“The birds fell in line with me.” Nico shakes his head furiously and rolls his eyes. “They attacked him. He didn’t eat poultry for a month.”

“Only a month?”

“You’d be surprised how willing he is to eat something if it’s wrapped in something blue.”

The corner of Nico’s lip lifts with amusement, and Jason’s tired laugh echoes off their teacup. Slowly, Nico’s smile fades, and his gaze dims.

“I miss him,” Nico says. “All of them.”

Jason’s chest aches. He can’t even describe how much he misses Thalia. It was only days ago that Nico repeated the same sentiment—wanting nothing more than to be surrounded by family. For Nico, being around Thalia, Reyna, and Percy was his normal. Having Bianca at his side is foreign to him. And—for Jason, having anyone at his side feels foreign.

Luke left. Bianca left. Annabeth pushed him away as much as he pushed her.

Annabeth and he were better now. They were going to talk again after the war was over. Thalia _wants_ to see him at the end of this—which is something Jason’s never experienced before. He’s used to watching all of the other demigods waiting for their parents to arrive at Camp Halfblood to pick them up.

He's never going to have Luke again. And…Bianca will soon follow back to the land of the dead.

It’s a realization that hurts both of them. Nico and him.

Her resurgence isn’t normal but bringing her back to his father’s realm will be heartwrenching.

Jason startles when Nico taps him on the forehead. “Um?”

Nico looks back at him, fully, his eyebrows knitting together. “You’re thinking too loud.”

“You…can just tell that.”

“I can tell,” Nico agrees—and then he pauses. Slowly, he adds, “but I’m understanding that no one’s taken the time to notice. Not even Bianca.”

Jason blinks, puzzled. He doesn’t know why, but he feels nervous.

“Sleep, Jason,” Nico says softly. His voice is gentle and soothing, with no ill-will. There’s no hidden dagger behind his words—only reassurance. A soft declaration rests on his tongue. “No nightmares tonight. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jason shudders—but the weight of Nico’s voice is different this time.

He closes his eyes—and slowly, drifts into slumber with Nico’s pulse beside him.

No nightmares tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we needed to slow down a little after so much action back-to-back! The boys are slowly making their way back to camp, with help in tow and a better attitude! If you haven't yet, please check out my story, [over the rainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27428083/chapters/67047214#workskin), where canon Jasico means godswapped Jasico! There is a time skip and a mix of a few spoilers/things that have changed to keep you guys guessing for how are godswapped boys end up together!
> 
> Secondly, the lovely rowan-scribbles made this [beautiful commission](https://rowan-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/634173772559155201/commission-for-achillesmonochrome) for the sweet [achillesmonochrome](https://achillesmonochrome.tumblr.com/) of a scene Jason keeps alluding to. Please give both of them some love! 
> 
> Lastly! I've alluded to this a few times on my tumblr, but updates will (likely) be more sporadic as we're going into the holidays. We're getting close to the end, with a few more surprises in store! I hope you all enjoyed. As always, stay safe!


	14. forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This isn’t—” Jason stares, apparently still flummoxed at the turn events. “I’m not in control.”
> 
> Another array of skeletons exhumes themselves from the ground this time, covered in a toxic aura and dressed in armor and wielding swords—like a cohort.
> 
> “No,” a voice interjects—one that causes a chill to run up Nico’s spine. “ _I_ am.”
> 
> The skeletons suddenly stand erect, lining up like a Roman Army for a commanding officer.
> 
> Nico’s stomach ties in knots as a boy appears at the end of the aisle of skeletons, with a mop of brown hair and eyes the heinous color of pond scum. A ruthless smile grin appears across his lips—and Nico does everything to keep from wanting to punch that same boy in the face. He’s dressed in head-to-toe in black armor with a red tattered cloak draped down his shoulder. One hand rests on his hip, where his gladius lies.
> 
> The other is on Diocletian’s scepter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warning:** The word p*ssy is used about 3/4th of the way in the chapter and is used in a derogatory way.

Nico sits across from Jason, arms crossed over his chest as he waits for that brow to unfurrow and demeanor to relax. Jason’s hands twitch over his own chest instead, and his mouth seems to murmur an echo of whatever he’s dreaming.

Slowly, Nico reaches over and brushes the hair out of the son of Hades’s face—something Thalia would do for him in the middle of a bad dream. Even in slumber, there’s reluctance in Jason’s face—but then his brow relaxes, and his breathing steadies. As Nico pulls away, Jason seems to lean closer, into that grip from a distance.

His heart clenches.

“Jace has changed a lot,” says a voice behind him.

As he turns around, Bianca’s gaze meets him, her eyes a pristine blue that reflects the stars.

Nico feels like he’s ten again. Shorter and smaller, looking up at his big sister who always tried to act mature for her age. He can see them hopping the cobblestone streets of Venice so clearly, with the reflection of his arms splayed out beside him in the light of canals. Mama and Mammina, holding hands off in the distance, with the silhouette of two lovers against the reflection of the waters. Their little family.

Except, he’s definitely not ten anymore. Nico had to accept that his mother was gone just as his sister was—and he’s not even sure where he stand with Juno now.

His heart used to pound in his chest from a burst of energy as big as a nimbus cloud. Now, Nico’s so nervous that Bianca can hear it thrumming in his chest.

Nico _used_ to look up to his big sister’s face, grinning so wide that his cheeks hurt. When he left with Thalia, it took him weeks to even conjure a smile. He once repeated his sister’s name a thousand times in order to catch her attention—and Thalia used to wake up when he’d murmur it in the dark, sobbing.

Bianca stares at him with an older face. She’s taller—but so is he. When they arrived at the Casino, Nico barely came up to her shoulder. Now he has to look down to look at her.

At his sister, who’s the spitting image of the photo Jason gifted him—the one that weighs heavily in his pocket each time Bianca is mentioned.

“We’ve changed a lot,” she notes, when Nico doesn’t respond.

Nico rubs his forearm where Bianca’s touch was not too long ago. It tingles, after half a decade apart.

Bianca steps towards the entrance of the teacup and looks up tentatively. “May I…?”

He nods.

She floats when she moves. Nico doesn’t know how to feel about it. Bianca hops gently over the brim of the teacup, and her eyes fall down to Jason. It’s another oddity to him—Bianca’s friendship with the son of Hades that Nico spent so many months wary of. 

Bianca stares at the son of Hades with a sweet affection that Nico can’t quite place. He tries to compare it to Annabeth’s stormy gray eyes and the guarded look that betrayed the evenness of her voice, when they were aboard the ship together. Back when Nico had left his guard at New Rome and let the eagles guide him to the middle of the sea, where the Argo II flew. Her façade had cracked the moment Nico noted the flaw between Jason and Annabeth—and they spent the rest of their trip to Epirus glancing at each other a little more hopefully.

Bianca looks more cautious. More afraid. In a way, it reminds Nico of Jason—how her eyes seem to say the words her mouth is afraid of.

And—Nico thinks, with a painful ache—he’s learning that Jason won’t say those words because he won’t _let_ himself.

There’s familiarity in the way Bianca reaches over and brushes hair out of Jason’s face. The freckles against her cheeks ripple as she smiles.

Nico feels… _something_ in his chest. Discomfort. Like he’s intruding.

But then, Bianca raises her gaze, her hands in her lap as she looks onward to Nico.

His throat dries, and he stares down at his Bermuda shorts instead. Nico clears his throat. “Where’s Coach?”

“With Mrs. O’Leary and the statue.” Bianca’s brown booties press against the metal floor. “I had no idea he was married now. And—expecting his first child? Never thought I’d see the day Gleeson Hedge settled down.”

There’s a forced normalcy to her voice. She manages a lot better than Nico.

“How much do you know about the quest?” he asks.

After five years, Bianca still knows how to read him. Or—maybe his discomfort is just that obvious. It was enough for Jason to come seek him out after just a few minutes with Bianca. With Bianca, though—seeing the telltale way her smile creases and her eyes dim with disappointment makes him feel even more uncomfortable.

“Coach Hedge told me what I needed to know,” she says, and there’s a less stilted quality to her voice. Her demeanor hardens. “We need to get the Athena Parthenos to Camp Halfblood before a war breaks out between the Greek and Roman demigods. When Mrs. O’Leary wakes up, we’ll be able to go straight there. Jace shouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

“Good.” Nico’s gaze falls back down to the son of Hades, his eyebrows knit together.

Jason hasn’t moved much in his sleep. Even with his eyes closed, Jason looks deep in thought—like sleeping was just a quest he needed to succeed.

Sleeping in a teacup in Disney World definitely isn’t the most _ideal_ situation.

“Could we,” Bianca pulls a lock of hair behind her ear and stares at him hopefully, “Go somewhere to talk—?”

“No,” Nico says immediately—then he feels his cheeks flush pink. “I promised I’d be here when he woke up. I. I already broke that once before.”

He can only wonder what would’ve happened if he didn’t fly off to get supplies. The Huntresses wouldn’t have spotted him. Jason wouldn’t have roused. Orion might’ve even left the Huntresses and Amazons alone if Nico’d just stayed.

Jason wouldn’t have been out for blood.

If Mrs. O’Leary was tracking them through scent alone, then they might’ve been able to make it out of Puerto Rico unscathed.

Bianca smiles at him, despite his outburst. “I always knew the two of you would get along.”

Gods. Nico’s first meeting Jason suddenly plays in his head and he bites the inside of his mouth, if only to diminish the hue of his cheeks. “Not as easily as you’d think.”

That surprises her. “Really?”

Nico shrugs, and he fiddles with his beltloop again. His Legion tattoo sticks out from the corner of his eye. The one with the eagle that denoted his father.

His chest grows tight again as he remembers what Jason has told him about the Great Prophecy. How it was either going to be Jason, because of Hades—or Bianca, because of Zeus.

And—given what they both know about their godly parent—their _true_ godly parent, Nico thinks he understands why Bianca left.

He just wishes that didn’t make him feel so awkward.

And that she could just _tell._

“You can talk to me, you know,” Bianca says softly. Hopefully. “I mean—I’m your big sister. You can tell me anything.”

Nico looks at her again reluctantly. “Did you know I was with Jason when you started looking? On this quest?”

Bianca lights up at his inquiry, her eyes perking, and shakes her head. “Mrs. O’Leary knows Jason’s scent. I managed to follow you guys to Paris, and these aurae mentioned a son of Jupiter. I—well, I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but—there aren’t too many of those.”

She smiles at him again, demeanor swelling with a burning warmth. Nico fidgets again.

Her eyebrow darts into the air. “They…mentioned something about a Rain Cycle?”

“A what?”

“Never mind.” She shakes her head—which is when Nico realizes they’re making similar hand gestures. Nico’s own hand fidgets with his belt loops and his tattoo, unable to keep still. Bianca plays with the hem of her skirt, picking at the little bits of thread at her knees. She stares at him, looking too much like their mother. “You’ve grown up a lot. I almost can’t believe how handsome you’ve gotten.”

Red blooms in Nico’s cheeks.

“And,” Bianca continues, “you’re so _tall_ now. I remember when you barely came up to my shoulder. And your hair—”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Nico blurts out—and the words seem to echo. He peers through his bangs uncertainly, ready to be scolded like when he was little. A hand to the hip, and for Bianca to tut, _Nico di Angelo!_ , followed by a long rant about being respectful to other people—like when he’d chirp her name a thousand times to pull her attention away from her friends.

But she doesn’t. Bianca stares at him, with a somberness that _feels_ like it should be foreign to her—but Nico’s seen it in Jason’s own face as the son of Hades recounted the many deaths that brought him down his path.

“Right back at you, Nico,” she says softly—and her voice is full of sadness.

Nico’s chest tightens. He rubs the tattoo on his arm again. From the corner of his eye, he thinks Jason is about to rouse—and they both reach to soothe the son of Hades. Nico reaches for a shoulder. Bianca reaches for Jason’s forehead.

The gesture feels so mimicked that it’s like looking in a mirror. Bianca raises her gaze, her own hair falling into her face, and stares back at him. She opens her mouth—the urge to say something striking once again—then her frame wilts, looking nothing like the Huntress that shot arrows on the back of a hellhound.

“Nico, I—” Bianca curls into herself—looking imperfect for the daughter of the Queen of the Gods—but as small and shy as Nico remembers. All that’s missing is her green hat. “—I don’t even know what happened that day. I turned my back for a few seconds to talk to someone and then suddenly—suddenly you were gone. I thought you would be okay if—if I left you alone for just a _few minute_ s, and suddenly the casino was just… _falling_ , all around us.”

Nico stares at her. “You sent me away.”

Bianca grimaces.

“You,” Nico repeats, and his eyebrows furrow together, “sent me away because you found a new group of friends to hang out with in the casino. A bunch of girls. You thought it was lame to have your kid brother hanging around you and your new friends.”

From the way she reacts to the words, Nico knows she remembers. At least that bit. Bianca went right, down the hall of the casino, and nudged her brother left. They wouldn’t see each other again for a long time. Not until after Nico had grieved the loss of his sister and learn about Thalia’s own reasons to mourn. Nico’s not sure _how_ to react to this Bianca—the one who easily grew so irritated with him.

“I met a girl,” Nico continues, and his eyes grow warm. He nods his head over to Jason. “Jason’s sister, Thalia Grace. She’d been stuck in the hotel, too. Not as long as we had—but she could tell we weren’t supposed to be in there. She saved me. But—”

His voice halts.

“I couldn’t find you,” Nico says, and the familiar anguish of screaming Bianca’s name at the top of his lungs comes back. He was ten and mourning. “I had no idea where you were. And I. I… _screamed_ at her for not going back for you. Every day. I wanted to run away from her.”

Bianca’s own eyes water as he recounts the story. Nico can still see the Lotus Casino off in the distance, with Thalia’s grip tight around his wrist. He remembers how tired he was after all of that crying, all of the thrashing—and Thalia still held him to help him fall asleep.

She never once let Nico blame himself for Bianca’s death.

_“My fault_ ,” she’d whisper above the crown of his head. _“My fault, I’m so sorry._ ”

Nico’s only now realizing the apology is twofold in Thalia’s eyes. Her fault, for not going back in for Bianca. Her fault, for leaving Jason to fend for himself under Beryl Grace’s care. She poured her grief into taking care of him, never pushing Nico away because she understood the pain of being away from her little brother for far too long. Percy and Thalia butted heads—but they never let him fall. They never demanded him to go away.

They worked through it. Together.

“You’re angry with me too,” Bianca surmises—and the way her eyes seem to shine only make Nico’s own gaze blur.

“I’m not _angry_ with you, Bianca,” he protests, and his eyebrows furrow together. Nico folds his hands together, if only to keep from picking at his tattoo. He sucks in a breath—and realizes how heavy it feels. “I. I was angry at myself. For not being able to find you. I was angry at Thalia for not _trying_ to find you. Not trying hard enough.”

“Nico, you were a kid,” she whispers. She reaches out to touch his arm—but Nico can’t help himself from slinking away. Bianca’s hand stays between them while Nico struggles to keep her gaze. “It—it was my job to protect you, and I thought—I thought you’d be okay if I wasn’t looking for just a few minutes. I—I just needed a _break._ ”

Nico stares at her once again. “A break from me.”

Bianca’s brow furrows together, and her hands twitch at her lap. “For someone who claims he’s not _angry_ right now, you’re not sounding very convincing.”

He grimaces.

“Nico, I—” Bianca halts, her hands fisting the skirt in her lap in a mute frustration. “—I’ve thought about that day for as long as we’ve been apart. Every birthday. Every Christmas. I can’t tell you how many times I just—I begged Jace take me to Vegas and search for you. He refused to take me to the Underworld and search Elysium.”

Nico tries to imagine Jason Grace, young and doubtful of his own powers, conceding to Bianca’s request. He can’t. The Jason from earlier was firm in his words, even if he knew they weren’t the ones Nico wanted to hear. 

“I couldn’t move on without you, Nico,” she says, and her voice is miserable. Bianca looks back to him. “I—I waited every day for you down in Elysium. I wasn’t going to pass without seeing you again.”

Each word needles at Nico’s heart. “Bianca, I—I _needed_ to move on.”

Nico can’t imagine how differently life would’ve been had Thalia never found him. Maybe the Lotus Casino would still be intact—and maybe Bianca _would’ve_ gone back from him. He’d be sitting in their hotel room, playing solitaire by himself and sulking.

Or maybe one way or another, their sperm donor of a dad would’ve gotten them out of the Lotus Casino. There wouldn’t be a flaw in Jupiter’s plan. The King of the Gods would claim glory with his stolen children at both camps.

Zoe talked about the game of heroes—of men recounting only their glories and omitting their plights. Jupiter did just that when he took their memories away with the River Lethe—so Nico and Bianca di Angelo would _only_ be known by their father’s lineage. Everything they did would _only_ be in their father’s name.

But—Jupiter’s meddling was completely separate to why Bianca feels so _weird_ to Nico. If Bianca had died, Nico wonders if he would’ve tried to bring her back. If he would’ve done far worse than asking if Thalia was _sure_ her spirit couldn’t be brought back, after crying himself into exhaustion. Maybe he would’ve been tempted to sneak into Elysium, too.

But Thalia, Reyna, and Percy never wanted him to go down that path. Nico genuinely thinks he’s better for it.

Yet Bianca looks hurt at even the notion of being left behind. “I’m glad you were able to get over my death so easily.”

Nico could laugh. He shakes his head vehemently instead, his hands twitching across his lap.

“Nothing about getting over your death was _easy_ , Bianca.” His throat constricts, and he rubs the tattoo on his arm again. “Jason can contest to that.”

At the mention of her best friend’s name, Bianca’s gaze falls. There’s a quiet frustration to the way her demeanor twists—a piece, that doesn’t quite fit in the scenario she mapped out in her head. It’s unlike the poised daughter of the Queen of the Gods and Maria di Angelo, who preferred her brother to sit still while she played with her friends.

At the age of four, Nico could shrug it off. Who cared? At the age of fifteen, he’s…warier of it. It’s what separated them in the first place.

As strange as their conversation is going, Nico can tell that Jason’s reaction isn’t what she expected, either. The fleeting glances and the nervous smiles. The way they stare at each other when the other isn’t looking is telling—and so is the way neither one of them seem to be in sync.

“He’s different,” Bianca echoes again, from earlier. The hair falls in her face, and she fiddles with the braid down her shoulder. “I—I knew I was looking for him, but I hardly recognize him. The Jace I knew used to be so…calm.”

“It’s been a stressful couple of weeks.”

“You don’t understand,” she insists. “I’ve never seen him this—this out of it. Camp Halfblood raised him into the _perfect_ hero. I mean, Jace is just so—”

“Tartarus changes you.” Nico stares down at Jason—the same son of Hades that his sister is—and keeps his sight on the bags beneath Jason’s eyes. The gauntness of his face, and how even in rest, his fingers twitch, ready for combat. The looks Jason flashed after Nico woke up were intense—like a warrior thrashing out in an empty battlefield—but only in eyes alone. A cold chill had washed over Nico, which—had been a strange experience.

But—Nico remembers the waves of Jason’s memories that engulfed him down in Croatia. All of the fear and apprehension that was sidelined in favor of fulfilling the Greek Great Prophecy.

Maybe Tartarus _didn’t_ change Jason. It just brought out all of the things he tried so desperately to stifle. Luke and Bianca. That love, and that hate—and every emotion in between. Anxiety, fear, and rage.

Bianca stares at him in the same manner Thalia did—when Nico was able to fill in the gaps that the daughter of Pluto couldn’t.

“He’s my best friend,” she says softly. “Without him, I—I wouldn’t even know how to fight. I don’t know where I’d be.”

“Maybe not dead.” The words come out of Nico’s mouth before he can help himself. As he looks back up, he catches Bianca staring at him, taken aback. Red stains Nico’s cheeks. He expects to be reprimanded, but—

“Maybe not,” she says instead. She fiddles with the hem of her skirt again—and she doesn’t look like she’s going to fight him on that one.

Nico swallows hard.

“Jason said you shouldn’t be alive,” he says finally—and his heart aches just as it did when the words first left Jason’s mouth. “That—the fact you made it past the Doors of Death was against the rules. Once we get to Camp Halfblood and the gods’ minds are healed…”

They’ll have to separate again.

“I’ll have to go back.” Her demeanor falls—but she doesn’t look surprised. She laughs—but it’s gentle and sounds like it’s aimed at herself. “I figured as much. You don’t get to be friend with Jason Grace without understanding how much of a rule-follower he is.”

Nico stares at her. “And you’re just okay with that.”

“Well, of course I’m not okay with it,” Bianca protests. “I finally get to see you after five years and—and we have to say goodbye again. How could I _ever_ be okay with that?”

Her voice is filled with so much anguish that Nico could cry. His eyes feel wet.

“We never got to say goodbye the first time,” he corrects her softly—and again, Bianca doesn’t rebuke him. She stares at him with the same heavy sorrow that’s much older than today.

She nods in agreement, again. “We didn’t.”

They fall into a silence, with Bianca’s boots scraping against the metal floor.

“Can we just pretend everything is normal?” she asks finally. “That—nothing’s changed between the two of us? You’re still my little brother, and I’m your big sister?”

Nico opens his mouth to speak—then closes it. Another second passes, and Bianca seems to hang onto every notion. “I…don’t know what the protocol is for when a dead sibling comes back to life.”

“Ditto,” Bianca agrees softly—and she smiles at him. Their one common ground is their estrangement.

Nico wasn’t too kind to Jason the first time, when the son of Hades brought his big sister up. But—he’d learned in Croatia that he wasn’t the party that was still mourning her death. Jason and he could’ve been better friends from the start, had the circumstances been different.

Had Reyna not been swapped, and they all fell into roles in preparation of a war. Nico was jealous of Jason’s presence in Thalia’s life—but honestly, why _would_ he want to feud with Jason Grace, when he loved Jason’s big sister so much?

He doesn’t want to push Bianca away, like he pushed Jason. Not when they have so little time together.

“What do you want to know?” Nico asks finally.

Bianca’s eyes light up. It’s almost strange to Nico how intrigued she is by him. “Everything. Tell me about Thalia. About how you were raised in the last five years.”

“That’s…a lot of ground to cover.”

“I have all the time in the world for you, Nico.” Bianca smiles fully at him now, patient and sweet.

“I…okay.” With a quiet sigh, Nico eventually concedes. Talking about Thalia is the easiest. Thalia, daughter of Pluto, who laughed at the claims that her presence was a bad omen. Thalia took everything that Hollywood and Disney twisted about her father and prospered in it. The brooding black leather, many piercings, and spiky hair. She got a kick out of the people who found her terrifying—but much like her dad, she’s one of the kindest people Nico’s ever met.

He never would’ve left with her, otherwise. And New Rome never would’ve elected her as praetor.

Nico talks about what Thalia did for him. For all the ways New Rome mistreated their resident daughter of the Underworld, she knew the other side of it, too. The obnoxious fame that came with multiple eyes on you at all times, after living with Beryl Grace for so long. Nico didn’t know _that_ part—not at the time. But Thalia was insistent on shielding him on that aspect and letting him have a normal life.

Bianca holds onto every word. Her eyes dim at some point—which is when Nico pauses. The worry grows in him—that he’s said too much—but she raises her head again.

“Is something wrong?” she asks.

He stares at her again, surprised. It takes him a second longer to find his voice. “No, I. I was going to ask you the same thing.”

She stares at him tentatively—a look he’s seen so often in the mirror—then she shakes her head. “I just—I can’t believe how much of your life that I’ve already missed.”

Nico stares at her in confusion. “All I’ve done is talk about Thalia.”

The corner of her lip raises gloomily. “You…wouldn’t get it. It’s a big sister thing.”

That makes Nico shift uncomfortably in his seat. They fall into another awkward tension—one that Nico isn’t sure how to break. Each word about Thalia only makes Bianca sadder. Nico’s not sure if bringing up other aspects of his life is such a good idea.

“We have a sister,” Nico says instead.

Bianca perks at that. “What do you mean?”

“Hazel Levesque. Another daughter of Zeus.” Nico raises his gaze back up to her. He pauses—and then decides to elaborate. “A proper daughter of Zeus.”

This time, when Nico goes into detail about their sister, Bianca looks more intrigued. She asks questions—which Nico answers to the best of his ability. Hazel’s time as an oak tree surprises her—

(“Jace and I used to have picnics under that oak tree.”

“Ah,” Nico says. Picnic dates.)

—and then Nico explains the rest. How Hazel was also from the 1940s. Except, instead of being nabbed by Zeus for a similar fate, she was hunted by Hera. Nico gets a knot in his stomach just thinking about it.

He knows the gods can be cruel and impatient—but for it to be with the people he holds dear only makes it worse. Nico explains how Hazel recently went toe-to-toe with Hercules—something he was proud of when under Zoe’s eyes. He’s even prouder, now, when Bianca grins.

“Hecate chose Hazel as her champion,” Nico explains, and he can’t help the urge to smile as Bianca’s eyes widen in surprise. “I think between the weather and the Mist—”

“She’s probably the most powerful demigod aboard that ship,” Bianca finishes for her. The corner of her lips raises into a smile, impressed. “What I wouldn’t give to meet her.”

Nico stares back at her—and then he hesitates.

“Jason asked me to train her,” he says finally. “For your sake.”

Bianca stares at him—then slowly nods in confirmation. She turns her head fondly once again to their resident son of Hades. Looking at him now, Jason looks…more peaceful. Like he’s finally given into slumber.

“He made it his job to know how I was doing,” she admits. “Since we were both the only Big Three kids at Camp Halfblood before Hazel came around. Being there can be isolating. Especially if you stick around all year.”

“I could see that.” Nico thinks back to what Jason said about growing up in Long Island. Training, 24/7. Having Chiron as his on-and-off teacher. Being raised by satyrs and passed around camp like a hot potato between monsters and campers.

It’d gotten so bad for Jason that his whole brain seemed to break at the word _normal._ Jason speaks about demigod life as though he was carrying a weight, but Bianca makes it sound like she was dragging around a nuisance.

“I spent a lot of time just wishing you were there,” Bianca admits gently. “It…got to be too much.”

Again, Nico stares at her, unsure of what to say. His hand falls down to his tattoo—which is no longer what binds them. Jupiter was a part of their lives, but just a small faction compared to their moms.

“If…we ended up getting out of the casino together, and somehow ended up at Camp Halfblood… _together_ ,” he says slowly, “would you’ve still joined the Huntresses?”

The moonlight glows behind her. Her hair is in a braid akin to Zoe Nightshade. Around her hip is a silver dagger, courtesy of the Huntresses. As fondly as they speak about Nico’s life, he thinks… _knows_ the moon separates them. At the end of the day—no matter how much either one of them grew up and changed, Bianca still left and did her own thing. She may not have meant it out of malice, but Nico saw the aftermath in Jason. He saw in Jason’s visions, how it affected Jason’s relationship with Annabeth.

“I…” And—more than a few seconds pass as Bianca stares at him, bewildered. “I…mean—”

A loud sound cuts her off. A rattling that echoes through the empty teacup ride—and makes Nico’s pulse race. Bianca is at her feet, her hand reaching for her hunting knife. 

Nico’s standing on the other side of the steering wheel, his own hand suddenly reaching for his own dagger.

Nothing happens.

“Could’ve been the wind,” Bianca suggests, when they hold their positions for a moment too long. She sounds doubtful.

“I know the wind,” Nico protests. “That’s not the wind.”

A set of bony arms pop up out of nowhere—and yank Bianca and Nico into chokeholds.

*

A sharp bone digs into Nico’s throat—the gesture so painful that Nico almost blacks out from asphyxiation.

“Bianca—!” Nico shouts, and the pain burns through his esophagus. Nico thrashes in the skeleton’s grip—but his leg slams into the steering wheel of the teacup and he stifles a pained cry.

Across from him, Bianca is having better luck. She hooks her foot beneath the steering wheel and gains leverage. She’s purple in the face, rasping for air while a skeleton yanks her by the throat and hair. A ribbon of electricity shoots across her torso and tases the skeleton. It releases her, skull jowl clattering against its head and joints gyrating.

Nico blasts a gust of wind to the right of the skeleton holding him, and the skull flies off its head. The skull rattles like a reinforced plastic cup bouncing off the floor and echoes as it lands in the teacup across from them.

Immediately, Nico jostles Jason awake. “Jason—wake up!”

More skeletons appear at the end of the teacup ride, dressed in Disney World couture and Mickey Mouse ears. One even has an old camera strewn over its neck, ready to take pictures of their doom. Their movements are erratic—but they’re not slow.

They lunge towards them, the camera-wearing tourist-skeleton swinging the device around like a sack of bricks. The second one takes off its Mickey Mouse ears and shoves the hat in Bianca’s face.

_“MPHAH!”_ she shouts.

Jason emerges from slumber, rubbing his forehead. Then his eyes widen in front of him. “What—?”

The camera smashes into him, face first, and explodes into smithereens. Before he can recover, the tourist skeleton takes the leftover camera strap, throws it over Jason’s head, and yanks the son of Hades’s face into the steering wheel.

“ _Jason!_ ” Nico shouts—and he’s surprised the scream is accompanied by Bianca’s own. He unsheathes his dagger to splice through the cord—and the same headless skeleton from before grabs him from behind. 

The lights above them suddenly click on with a loud _CLACK_! A jaunty tune from _Alice in Wonderland_ blasts over the speakers, and Nico hears an earful of the teacups humming to life before they start spinning.

“Nico!” Bianca shouts. Her tased skeleton hops over the teacup ride, reassembled, and latches onto her like a koala bear. She’s unsteady as the teacup whirls, her hands crackling with electricity, but nowhere to plant her palm.

Nico tries for another gust of wind—which blasts through the entire teacup ride and somehow makes them go faster, knocking them off their feet.

Jason wrestles out of the camera skeleton, one hand reaching for Nico’s ankle, and the other reaching for Bianca’s arm—and suddenly they spiral into the shadows and out of the teacup ride. The sudden change is so dizzying that Jason stumbles on his feet, spinning a full circle as he stands up. He groans.

“Everyone okay?” he asks in a sleepy mumble. He’s so green in the face that he looks ready to puke.

“Yes,” Bianca bemoans.

“Yes,” Nico agrees. Then—“You can let me go now.”

Nico has no idea _why_ —but Jason felt the need to yank him closer than Bianca. Jason has one hand intertwined with his sister’s and an arm wedged around Nico’s waist—if only to steady him.

“Um. Sorry,” Jason mumbles, and he unreels his arm for Nico to steady himself. A pain surges through Nico’s leg—the one that slammed into the teacup steering wheel, and he leans against the son of Hades anyway.

The teacup ride blasts in the distance, with skeletons rattling and chittering in their teacups. The head Nico knocked off early hops from cup-to-cup and chitters in their direction.

“Why is that head _swearing_ at you?” Jason asks. He flashes a tired, worried look at Nico.

“Jace, what _are_ those?” Bianca asks.

“Were you having a nightmare?” Nico asks.

Jason looks between the both of them, perplexed as he tries to wake up—

—then more skeletons crop up, breaking through the cement ground beneath them. Two, then ten. Fifteen—twenty—so many that Nico loses count—dressed in Mickey Mouse ears and different memorabilia—including princesses, stormtroopers, and superheroes. They all rattle as they move towards them—quick to drag their bony feet towards the epicenter, where Bianca, Nico, and Jason rest.

“Jason, call them off!” NIco orders—and he wedges himself-back-to-back with his sister and the son of Hades.

“This isn’t—” Jason stares, apparently still flummoxed at the turn events. “I’m not in control.”

Another array of skeletons exhumes themselves from the ground this time, covered in a toxic aura and dressed in armor and wielding swords—like a cohort.

“No,” a voice interjects—one that causes a chill to run up Nico’s spine. “ _I am._ ”

The skeletons suddenly stand erect, lining up like a Roman Army for a commanding officer.

Nico’s stomach ties in knots as a boy appears at the end of the aisle of skeletons, with a mop of brown hair and eyes the heinous color of pond scum. A ruthless smile grin appears across his lips—and Nico does everything to keep from wanting to punch that same boy in the face. He’s dressed in head-to-toe in black armor with a red tattered cloak draped down his shoulder. One hand rests on his hip, where his gladius lies.

The other is on Diocletian’s scepter.

Jason’s breath catches beside Nico.

“di Angelo,” the boy greets—and Nico’s skin crawls as the boy turns to look at him. “Long time no see. Still sucking off Jackson’s dick?”

“Bryce,” Nico greets—a little more hostile and filled with disdain. “Glad to know you’re doing okay after Thalia banned you and your family.”

Bryce Lawrence’s smirk withers ever so slightly, and he rolls his eyes, as though _he’s_ the one being plagued by a nuisance. “Octavian was right. The worst thing New Rome ever did was let _that_ bitch come to power. She wouldn’t know a good decision if it grabbed her by the pussy.”

The air suddenly chills beside Nico. Goosebumps rise against Nico’s forearms, and his heart starts pounding quickly—at the will of one demigod in particular.

“Nico,” Jason asks, his voice tense, “who is this?”

“One of the only demigods to ever be exiled in our generation,” Nico responds tensely. “Bryce Lawrence.”

Bryce is older than them. As old as Hylla—or how old Thalia should’ve been before the casino took her—and an example of why the Underworld has such a bad reputation. While Thalia changed the reputation of her father’s realm for good, Bryce Lawrence—legacy of Orcus, the God of Punishment and Broken Oaths—reinforced everything _bad_ about the Underworld. The laws of Ancient Rome could be cruel—like stoning a banished Legionnaire—but Bryce thought those rules weren’t cruel _enough_.

When he showed no remorse in killing his centurion—Percy’s predecessor—and threatened Reyna, Thalia all but physically threw Bryce Lawrence out of New Rome. The Legion lost a lot of its funding from the Lawrence Family—which Thalia happily replaced with her own gems.

Jason would be proud, Nico thinks. First, they had to get through _this_ debacle.

The audience of skeletons chatter exuberantly at their master’s name. Nico’s skin crawls at the sound. It’s nothing like the skeletons that Jason summoned back at Hylla’s facilities. They move erratically, cracks in their bones and limbs crooked.

Bryce beams, tapping the scepter into the ground. The skeleton army stand erect and salute him.

“You don’t know what you’re doing with that,” Jason suddenly says. “Put that down before you hurt someone.”

The other corner of Bryce’s lips slices into a malicious smirk. “What, like you did back in Pompeii?”

“How did you even get that?” Nico demands. “Bryce, the Athena Parthenos has been found. There doesn’t need to be a war between the Greek and Roman demigods. Put that scepter down.”

“Sorry, di Angelo—you’re not my commanding officer.” Bryce berates. “Octavian promised me praetorship if I captured you. I’ll make sure the Legion will be as ruthless as our ancestors—and unlike you, I’ll earn that position myself. I don’t need my _big sister_ to keep my seat warm.”

“Jace,” Bianca whispers behind them, “can you call them off?”

“Most,” Jace mutters back. “Not all. So long as he has that scepter, they’ll just keep coming back.”

Nico steps forward, and all skulls turn to stare at him, jaws clattering in an eerie cacophony. “This is a waste of time. You should know Octavian will say whatever to get what he wants. How much weight does his word actually carry?”

Bryce laughs. “More than yours. A _disgraceful praetor_ who _abandoned_ his post in Camp Jupiter at the peak of war and left a _graecus_ in charge. Even if you bring the statue to Camp Halfblood, what makes you think the Romans will even _listen_ to you? You, Reyna, and Thalia left New Rome defenseless, di Angelo. They’ll never let you back into New Rome with open arms.”

Nico scowls, his own stomach coiling into knots.

“Oh—and that Aphrodite girl?” Bryce continues—and Nico’s blood suddenly runs cold. “Let’s just say the _graeca_ won’t hesitate to kill you, after what I did to her.”

“ _What did you do to Piper_?” Nico demands. Storm clouds suddenly fill the sky, crackling.

“Don’t worry,” Bryce reassures, “I enjoyed every scream.”

Nico lunges, his knife in hand—and the skeletons prepare themselves for battle. Jason is quick to react, grabbing Nico by the back of the shirt. A blast of wind knocks the first round of skeletons to the ground. Heads suddenly roll like basketballs, limbs exploding into debris before they crawl back towards each other. 

“Let me go!” Nico shouts. “He knows where Piper is!”

“Nico, we’re outnumbered and my bow’s back with Coach Hedge!” Bianca protests—and she and Jason share a look. “Our first priority is the statue—if we get to Camp Halfblood, none of this matters!”

“ _Piper’s_ life matters!” Nico snaps—and the rage boils in him. Jason’s grip loosens, and Nico slams his dagger into the spine of one of the skeletons. It chatters—and then topples backwards into another skeleton.

A dozen skeletons spin around in a 180 and start bashing in the heads of their allies. Nico feels his soul clamoring against his chest—and spins to see Jason’s eyes radiating with an aghast intensity. He chokes on a breath—suffocating on it.

More skeletons arise—an endless supply from the Haunted Mansion, no doubt—and Bryce just laughs. “Do you know how many parents lie about taking their kids to Disney World? This place is just _full_ of ammo for me!”

“Nico,” Jason orders, “give me the knife.”

Nico stares at the other demigod in disbelief—momentarily pulled away from his anger about Piper. “But—”

“You’re the target. They’ll either fall in line with me or fall at my feet.” Once again, Jason and Bianca share a look—something unspoken between them that Nico doesn’t know. “I’ll find out what happened to Piper. Just _go._ ”

His voice is firm—and despite the bags under his eyes from what little sleep he received, he looks ready for battle.

Nico stares at Jason, hard, and throws the other demigod his dagger. “We’re talking about this later.”

The corner of Jason’s lips lifts into a tired smile that makes Nico’s chest tingle. “I’m counting on it. Now _go._ ”

Bianca grabs Nico by the hand, and they dart in the opposite direction.

“Soldiers!” Bryce hollers. “ _Contendite vestra sponte!”_

Attack every enemy on sight. The zombie soldiers all spasm, rattling with a war cry as they charge towards the three demigods. Some skeletons—the ones wearing Mickey Mouse ears turn headfirst before their bodies follow, and attack their fellow Legion skeletons.

Nico gasps, as a surge of energy courses through his palm. Bianca’s electricity trails against their jointed hands. Bianca delivers a cold blast of wind that knocks a dozen skeleton off their feet like bowling pins—and they run.

He drags behind his sister, leg aching in pain while Bianca’s grip is tight. She groans softly and pulls Nico into Prince Charming’s Royal Carousel. “I’m not sure how many more of those I have left in me.”

“Hopefully enough,” Nico says—and he curses under his breath. “What makes you so sure that leaving Jason was such a good idea?”  
  


“I told you—Camp Halfblood trained Jason into the perfect hero,” Bianca insists. “He’s basically a One-Man Army. This one time, he threw a dagger at a pair of skeletons in the desert and they dissolved into nothing. He knows what he’s doing.”

Her explanation isn’t reassuring. Nico’s mind goes straight back to Puerto Rico, where Jason caused an eclipse and drew every bit of attention to himself. Jason may _think_ he knows what he’s doing, but—

“I’m going back,” Nico declares, and he stands to his feet.

“Nico—you’re injured.” Bianca yanks at Nico’s hand, and another jolt courses through Nico’s fingers. He’s not sure how else to describe it. “You didn’t see the way Jason was acting earlier when we got here—he wants you safe, first.”

“You don’t know him the way you think you do anymore,” Nico snaps. “Has anyone ever tried to keep _Jason_ safe?”

Her grip relinquishes over his wrist—but Nico has a feeling it’s related to the first part of his statement rather than the second.

And maybe it’s a stupid thing to say—especially now that Nico knows about the Curse of Achilles—but the war did twice as much emotional damage to Jason than a few cuts would have.

He ducks when a troop of soldiers march across the walkway of Disney World, pilums in hand—and he shivers, reminded of the suffocating amount of skeletons and zombies and ghosts that erupted from the earth back in Pompeii. For all of the clouds and rain that Nico could conjure, he felt smothered under the crowd of the undead.

And—for the scepter to be wielded by someone who actually knows what he’s _doing_ , Nico’s not sure what to expect. Jason had done that in one fleeting moment of panic. Bryce was no doubt loving every moment. They went through all the trouble of retrieving it in Croatia just for it to fall into the wrong hands.

Bianca’s question catches him off guard. “Why do you sound so angry?”

“About what?” Nico asks—and he’s quick to reassess his voice as it reverbs off the metal ponies. He can’t help but think Hazel would adore this ride—if it weren’t in the middle of the night and a bunch of skeletons weren’t clattering after them.

“About Jace,” she says. “About me not knowing more about him. I’ve only been gone a _year_ , Nico—what could I possibly not know in that time?”

“Apparently a lot,” Nico protests—and he finds himself growing uncomfortable. “They’re not there anymore, let’s go—”

Bianca’s hand slithers over his. She glares at him—something Nico _is_ familiar with. Her frustration and exasperation. “Why are you so angry for someone you hardly know, Nico? Just admit it—you’re angry at _me._ ”

“This isn’t the time for this,” Nico rebuts, and the irritation grows in his stomach.

“Newsflash: we don’t _have_ a lot of time together!” Bianca protests—and her voice grows with irritation. “There used to be days where I couldn’t get you to be quiet—and now you’re so—you’re so different! I can barely get you to look me in the eye!”

Her eyes are shimmering with tears again—the array of battle no longer important.

“Don’t you know how long I’ve waited to see you again?” she asks him. Her voice cracks.

And Nico stares at her—his sister, who is crying across from him at the epicenter of the carousel ride. The frustration coils in his stomach—and steams in his ears. “Because you left _him_ too, Bianca!”

She stares at him in disbelief—and now Nico is the one gesturing, angered.

“You couldn’t let go of the past, and you couldn’t move on. But you _left_ me by myself in the casino,” Nico snaps, his voice warm with rage. “You left Jason to fend for himself with the Great Prophecy—and you’re going to leave _again_ as soon as this war is over! Do you know what it’s like to hear you leave this world _three times over_ and have no say in the matter?”

Bianca’s expression hardens beneath her tears and her eyebrows furrow together. “That’s not fair. I’m allowed—”

“You _always_ do what you want,” Nico interjects, and his voice is vehement. “You couldn’t even answer me when I asked if you’d leave with the Huntresses again. I don’t know how to act about you being alive again because I don’t know if it _matters._ The longer you stay, the _harder_ this is. I might be different, but you’re still the same big sister who just wants to _leave_ me.”

She doesn’t refute him. Bianca stares at him in surprise while Nico’s throat burns from the fire of his own words. The truth was—he _was_ angry. He was frustrated at himself for not being able to find his sister all of those years ago. He was angry with Thalia for never being able to summon Bianca’s spirit—because what good was she as a daughter of Pluto, if she couldn’t?

And somewhere, while dwelling in his grief, Nico was furious with Bianca, too. Bianca, who always rolled her eyes at his interests in the presence of their moms or her friends back in Venice—because he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t as poised, as regal, or would ever be as powerful as Bianca, daughter to the Queen of the Gods.

But what _good_ was it, being angry at a corpse? If Nico dwelled on that feeling— _all_ of the feelings he had about his sister, then he’d never move on. He’d be stuck in a loop trying to find his sister, pushing away the love he received from Percy, Thalia, Reyna—and Hazel, now, and he would struggle to have a relationship with _anyone._

Eros ridiculed him for never finding love—but at the very least, Nico knows he wouldn’t be where he was today without the new family he found.

They’re silent for too long—but this time, Nico isn’t afraid of how Bianca will react. He turns around. “I’m going back to Jason. One of us has to.”

That snaps Bianca out of her stupor. “ _No._ We’re going back to Coach Hedge and Mrs. O’Leary.”

“ _Bianca_ —”

“Just because _I’m_ leaving doesn’t mean I want to watch my little brother die!” Bianca cries back. “Were you even going to mention you were turning into a cloud?!”

“This isn’t the time!” Nico snaps.

“You’re impossible!”

“Yeah? Well so are you!”

The carousel lights flash. Music from Cinderella blasts from the speakers—and dozens of white horses bob around them. Nico grabs onto a pole to steady himself—

“Nico!” Bianca shouts—and she parts, on a different ring of royal steeds.

“Bianca!”

_WOOOOOSH!_

The ride accelerates—faster and quicker—with horses galloping high and low while Nico’s own stomach laps him. He wobbles to his feet, hand flying to his waist for his knife—only to remember where it currently resides.

At the console are a pair of skeletons, chattering to themselves as they yank at levers and mash buttons.

Two more skeletons hop onto the carousel—but the velocity of the ride is too much. They stumble against the merry-go-round, hands clinging onto poles opposite to Nico, and their legs billow in the air like streamers. One femur gets dislodged—and socks one of the control-skeleton in the eye socket.

And—if Nico’s life couldn’t get more stupid like a Saturday morning Disney cartoon, the music suddenly blasts louder, the lights are suddenly brighter—and Prince Charming’s horses let out a magnificent warcry that rivaled the Mickey Mouse ear-wearing skeleton cohort that was trying to kill him.

Nico’s hand phases through the pole and his head slams into the back of a horse butt. He lets out a cry of frustration and plants his hand on another horse saddle.

“Nico!” Bianca shouts ahead of him. She grips her pole more tightly, her voice riddled with distress—and stares at him from afar, panicked.

The skeletons turn their heads towards her. One of them disassembles itself, flying towards her like garbage out a car window—and the skull bites into her shoulder.

_“Agh!”_ she hisses.

“Bianca!” Nico shouts. He propels himself onto the back of a horse, if only to catch up with the momentum trying to knock him off his feet—then soars towards his sister. He bobs and weaves out of the way of galloping horses—and when Bianca catches on, she tries to fly towards him.

The velocity of the ride slams Nico into his sister—literally—but suddenly they’re clinging onto each other.

“Are you okay?” he shouts.

“Are _you_?” Bianca shouts back.

Suddenly, three more skeletons charge at them, riding white horses and swinging imperial gold cavalry swords. Bianca notices the first one and kicks it out of the way.

“ _WATCH OUT_!” Nico notices the second and kicks its head square off.

The third one whizzes past them on its pony—then disassembles into femurs and ribs, exploding towards them like debris.

Nico’s instincts are sharp. So are Bianca’s.

They both reach out to blast the flying detached skeleton out of the way, and suddenly femurs and ribs and skulls separate to the left and to the right of them.

“Nice one, Nico!” Bianca shouts—and Nico flushes pink.

The skeleton’s cavalry sword flies at them next, forgotten.

Nico shoves his sister off the ride and presses against the center post of the ride. Bianca goes tumbling in the dark, while he’s left in inertia. He grits his teeth—and launches himself off the carousel ride.

Then he goes flying. He tucks and rolls, like the Legion trained him, but it still takes a moment for his stomach to catch up with the rest of him. His lungs sting as he sucks in a harsh breath of air and unfurls—and his leg throbs.

A foot slams into Nico’s back—and he hears the telltale chitter of a skeleton cackling above him. Nico gasps for air—and the skeleton’s hand gleams as it raises its sword in the air.

_“Hey,”_ a voice says. _“That sword looks nice. Could I take a look?”_

Butterflies fills Nico’s stomach. His head swells with a dizzy notion momentarily—and the skeleton in Mickey Mouse ears looks even more confused than he feels.

It lowers its weapon and hands it off to the new voice.

And—just as quickly as the carousel ride, Piper McLean swings the sword and slices the skeleton’s spine in half.

*

Piper looks stunning. With her choppy chocolate brown hair, celestial bronze knife and—now, her imperial gold cavalry sword. Nico doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to see a girl that wasn’t one of his sisters in his life. What’s striking to him, though, is the armor she’s wearing over her Hello Kitty tank top. Engraved on her chestplate is a _V_ , for the Fifth Cohort.

“Hey, Nico.” She grins at him cheekily—with a familiarity that Nico can’t quite stomach.

Nico opens his mouth to speak. Piper McLean, in Disney World. Piper McLean, who he left _weeks_ ago, at the footsteps of the principia, in the (so-called) Happiest Place on Earth. Standing in front of him, in Fifth Cohort armor. The so-called _graecus_ that Bryce Lawson just ridiculed Nico for. He closes his mouth.

Then he opens it again. “How—?”

“Nico!” Bianca comes flying towards them. She throws her arms around him, grip tight. “Are you okay?”

“I—” Nico notices the red stain pooling at Bianca’s shoulder, from where one of the skeletons bit her—but she doesn’t seem to care. “I’m fine. Bianca, you’re—you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” Bianca insists—but as they part, she winces, her hand flying to the crook of her neck.

Nico’s heart tightens just looking at it. His gaze narrows. “Bianca—”

“ _Nico Rafael di Angelo_ ,” she snaps—and she waggles a bloody finger at him. “That was by far the _stupidest_ thing you’ve ever done! On what planet do you think it’s okay to _fling your sister_ off a carousel and throw yourself into the line of fire?!”

He stares back at her, stunned. Then he gets annoyed. “A sword was coming at your face!”

“Then let me handle it!” she snaps. “We’ve been reunited for a day and a half and you seem _bent_ on getting yourself killed! You—”

“ _Please_ , I’ve been in _way_ worse than that!”

She glares at him sternly. “I’m not done talking!”

“Then shut up!”

“ _You_ shut up!”

Piper clears her throat—directing the attention of both di Angelo siblings towards herself. She points to the skeleton sliced in half at their feet. “So…I’m no daughter of Hades, and that guy is definitely not going to stay dead. Can we…?”

The skeleton chatters, as though announcing, _I’m also here!_

It starts to rise. Bianca slams her foot into its skull while Nico crushes its pelvic bone.

“Nico, who is this?” she asks.

“Ditto.” Piper scans Bianca up and down, her kaleidoscope eyes flitting with confusion. They eye each other maybe a moment too long, Piper’s gaze lingering on Bianca’s ensemble. At first glance, Nico knows their fashion sense is on the opposite ends of the spectrum.

Bianca is eloquent and graceful, with her long black hair braided back and yellow dress—despite it being smudged by blood and soot. Piper has choppy hair, dirty Hello Kitty Converse, baggy acid-washed jeans and ski jacket beneath her chestplate. Piper’s presence here is as surreal as Bianca’s.

“Piper McLean,” Piper says—and she holds out a hand.

Bianca stares at it—then turns back to Nico. “ _That_ Piper?”

Piper arches an eyebrow. “This Piper.”

“Jason needs help.” Nico changes the subject before he can get a headache. “Let’s get going.”

Nico hobbles as best he can. With the addition of Bianca’s ambrosia, his leg feels like it’s doing better—but every enemy they’ve had has seems bent on crippling him. The further they get from the teacup ride, the fewer skeletons appear.

Piper is able to wave them off by pointing to the gift shop and saying, _“Didn’t you promise Grandma a souvenir?”_ and the skeletons are quick to disappear off into the distance.

Bianca shakes her head in disbelief. She catches Nico as he stumbles—and he cocks his head as she hisses at her shoulder injury.

“Careful,” she tuts.

“Worry about yourself first,” Nico rebuts.

Piper stares at them—so long that Nico feels his cheeks flush. “The others are waiting for us at the Magic Kingdom. The Athena Parthenos is locked and ready to go, Nico.”

“Not without Jason,” he says almost immediately. He backtracks, trying to understand her words. “What do you mean others? How are you here right now? What’s happening?”

“After you left, Octavian took the opportunity to grow dissent between the cohorts,” Piper explains. “He took up some title…Pontifex Maximus? And started handpicking the people he wanted in the Legion. He said New Rome’s leaders had failed them.”

A bitter taste fills the back of Nico’s mouth. He halts and thinks back to Bryce’s words— _disgraceful praetor_ , then grimaces. “I left you there by yourself. Piper—I’m so sorry.”

She eyes him, but there’s no ire in her voice. Given how she just took down a skeleton with words alone, Nico has a feeling he’d _know_ if she was angry.

“So,” she says, “when I _politely_ _suggested_ Octavian where he could shove his pillow pet, he got Mike to convince the Senate that I committed treason and threw me and everyone who disagreed with him out of New Rome. Not just New Rome, though—somewhere—”

“Somewhere dark,” Nico finishes for her—and he recounts the dreams he had about the daughter of Aphrodite. The ones that Jason and he fought about before Bram Castle—and ultimately, Jason conceded to after a weary time waiting for Nico to wake up.

He shouldn’t have conceded. Jason was right—Piper played to her strengths.

She stands before him now, looking a little worse for wear—but in a far better state than Jason or him.

“The Labyrinth,” Piper explains.

“The Labyrinth. _The_ Labyrinth?” Nico’s eyes widen. He bites back the urge to call it _cool_. “In Disney World?”

“It makes more sense when you realize how _easy_ it is to get lost in this theme park,” Piper grumbles. “Bryce Lawrence was in charge of punishing anyone who went against Octavian. He thought getting lost in a living, organic maze and dying of starvation would’ve sufficed. I recognized it as soon as he threw us in. Reyna and I fell in it once while we were—”

She pauses.

“We fell in it once,” she concludes. She clears her throat. “How’s she doing?”

Nico stares at her—equally relieved and uncomfortable.

Piper evidently latches onto the second part. “How are she and _Thalia_ doing?”

“Uh…” Nico opens his mouth. He closes it—and she tilts her head.

“I got an idea after hearing they fell in Tartarus. And before that.” Piper makes a face—then shakes her head. Nico’s not sure how to interpret it.

Luckily, Bianca intercepts. “You…went down to the Labyrinth? You got here without a guide?”

Piper turns to face her again, and Bianca twitches.

“It took a few tries—but I figured out how to charmspeak the walls to get me where I wanted. I’ve been keeping tabs on people through Katoptris. We knew you were going to end up here soon, Nico.” The corner of Piper’s lips lift and she winks at him. “Not bad for a girl with a knife and charmspeak, huh?”

Nico flushes, reminded of the words he spoke so long ago. He stares at her in awe—but mostly, he’s impressed. “No, not bad at all.”

“Charmspeak,” Bianca interjects—and she stares in disbelief. “You led people in the Labyrinth. A daughter of Aphrodite.”

“Which part sounds fake?” Piper asks. She arches an eyebrow and stares back at Nico’s sister. There’s an edginess to her tone—clearly defensive. “I promise you, it’s all real.”

Bianca stares at her. There’s… _something_ there. Discomfort, from mentioning the Labyrinth. It’s the first time Nico’s seen something other than sad worry or exasperation. Bianca seems tense at the mention of it—but it quickly diminishes. “I’ve never heard of anyone charmspeaking the Labyrinth before. Let alone a…child of _Aphrodite_ in the Labyrinth.”

“I’m not like other children of Aphrodite,” Piper dismisses. She rolls her eyes and gestures to nothing in particular. “I flirt with walls and stare at a knife until it talks back.”

Nico bites back a laugh. Bianca continues to look onward, confused.

“Rome was founded by a child of Venus, Sis,” Nico says.

Bianca stares between the both of them suspiciously—but ends her gaze on Piper. Her eyes radiate with… _something_ , as Piper returns her gaze—then it falls, her cheeks a vibrant red. Nico blinks.

“Wait a minute—” Bianca looks back up to him, her eyes lighting up. “—did you just call me sis?”

The red in Bianca’s cheeks is mirrored in Nico’s own.

“Sis,” Piper repeats—then her eyes widen. “Wait— _Bianca_? _That_ sister?”

Nico stares at her. “How do you know about Bianca?”

“Reyna and I had a lot of long discussions,” Piper explains. “She’s very fond of you.”

“Reyna, again,” Bianca notes. She turns her gaze back to Nico, confused. 

“Nico’s other sister,” Piper says. She wrinkles her nose. “And my ex. I think.”

“I thought that was Thalia. And Hazel.” Bianca makes a face. “How many siblings do you have now, Nico?”

“There’s a brother, too,” Piper says. “Percy Jackson.”

“A _brother_?”

“Is that Dakota?” Nico asks. He points off into the distance where—sure enough, the son of Bacchus is standing with an ample number of Legionnaires—faces that Nico recognizes from the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Cohort.

Coach Hedge rests on Mrs. O’Leary’s back, with the Athena Parthenos strapped to her with rope from who-knows-where.

The moment Dakota catches his eye, the son of Bacchus waves his hand in the air, grinning. His other hand is occupied by a giant Disney World cup with a Mickey Mouse silly straw. “Nico! Hey!”

At first glance, the cohorts look somber—but as they lay eyes on Nico, they light up brighter than the amusement park rides. Nico stands there, stunned. He hardly registers Dakota running up to him with the Fifth Cohort eagle strapped to his back.

“Dude, it’s been ages!” Dakota grins, and his teeth are stained purple from whatever he’s drinking.

Nico stares. And stares. “How many people opposed Octavian?”

Piper touches him on the shoulder. “Everyone who believed your words over his.”

Nico chokes on his own disbelief and peers back at her. “But I. I left New Rome in shambles. Why—why would you choose me over Octavian?”

“Nico, it’s _Octavian_.” Dakota’s eyes dim with exasperation towards one Legacy of Apollo in particular. “You don’t go five years under Praetor Thalia’s rule without learning how to tune him out. Plus—what’s the one thing Centurion Jackson preaches every morning? _Ut incepit fidelis sic perminet—”_

“Loyal she began, loyal she remains,” Nico repeats—and the corners of his lips etch into a grin.

“We got your back, man.” Dakota mimics his boyish smile—then pulls the staffed eagle from his belt. He hands it out in front of them.

“Nico—” Bianca returns to Nico’s side, her bow in hand and quiver slung over her shoulder. Coach Hedge is on her heels. “We should get back to Jace. Now _._ ”

“Right.” Nico grabs onto the Fifth Cohort’s symbol of power and a cord of electricity slithers up the staff before glowing in the eyes of the eagle. Soldiers from the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Cohort fall in line at the sight of their praetor.

“Where’s Grace?” Coach Hedge demands—and he glares under his Mickey Mouse ears. “Don’t tell me _he_ got kidnapped this time!”

Nico shakes his head. “No, Coach, it’s a long—”

The streetlights shatter.

One-by-one, bulbs explode into a million pieces across the length of the park. Shadows consume every space of light, eclipsing the stars—

And Disney World suddenly becomes the darkest place on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hopefully this is a good way to start your week! We're approaching the end of the story and at the end of Gaea's War, but trust me when I say there's still more thrillers to come! Hopefully you're enjoying this doozy of a ride! Someone on tumblr asked me a long time ago (and I'm a terrible person who finally answered) about what Maria's parents were like, as I mentioned Nico's grandparents are dead. It's likely not going to make it into the story, but if you're interested in more Dearly Departed worldbuilding, [click here](https://kingburu.tumblr.com/post/636256606661787649/can-we-know-more-about-marias-parents)! Fun fact from the ask: Nico and Bianca are both named after their grandparents! 
> 
> Hopefully you guys enjoyed this update, until next time! Thanks for reading!


	15. son of hades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason keeps his eyes narrowed at Bryce, his grip tight around the dagger in his hand—but nothing he does is intimidating enough. “Piper. Tell me, now.”
> 
> “Or what?” Bryce just stares at him with a menacing smile. “Tell me, seriously.”
> 
> Gods, what Jason wouldn’t give just to throw Bryce in the flock of cuckoos Nico and he talked about. 
> 
> “Go ahead,” Bryce snaps, and he smirks. “Do to me what you did to Luke Castellan, Grace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like the last chapter, there are some words (c*nt) used by our most problematic least fave! They are in the first part of this chapter! If you don't follow my tumblr, [here's a link](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3WgYuvrTmYSgnzqtYmDlSM?si=GgOan1L-Tf6PrvZtCubKXA) to my spotify playlist for Dearly Departed, so you can see the mood I've built for the story. Enjoy!

Jason was getting... _somewhere_ in his dreams while asleep. Some peace of mind now that Nico was nearby, and Bianca was no longer using his dreams to try and find him. No remnants of Tartarus—just a blank slate. 

So, waking up to a merry-go-round teacup wasn’t something he expected. His head is still spinning from his rude awakening, both dizzy and tired. Every jump seemed to blow up in their faces one way or another. Jason expected Orion on their trail, maybe. 

Not some arrogant kid holding onto Diocletian’s scepter. Jason’s first failure on this quest. 

At first glance, Bryce doesn’t look like much—a tall white boy with an inferiority complex, a face that any mother would love, and every father would pick as first choice for no other reason than a firm handshake. He grins like the Cheshire Cat with none of the charm, his two front teeth different shades of yellow, and his nose is crooked. Jason would bet money that his sister landed the well-deserved punch to this demigod’s face. 

Jason’s stomach twists in knots, Nico’s knife is firm in his hand while the handful of reclaimed skeletons throw themselves at Bryce’s cohort of Mickey Mouse soldiers. The orb in the middle of the scepter radiates with death. 

“Who are you again?” Jason asks. 

“Bryce Lawrence. Legacy of Orcus.” Bryce’s lips curl into a menacing smirk. “And don’t worry, Jason Grace. I know _all_ about you.” 

Jason’s own demeanor twists. He doesn’t like the way Bryce leers at him. He searches his mind for the name _Orcus_ , but draws a blank. “Sorry—I’m having trouble finding the Greek equivalent.” 

Bryce studies him patronizingly, the edge of his lips simpering into a nauseating smile. “I’d be offended you didn’t know my ancestor’s name, but I’ve heard to expect _little_ from you.” 

Jason stares in confusion. 

“My great grandfather is the God of Eternal Punishments and Broken Oaths, Grace. You should be familiar with that one.” Bryce wields the scepter smoothly between his fingers, his other hand mounted at the pollum of his gladius. “He has no Greek equivalent. But I can assure you—if you fear his realm, you fear his name. And _you,_ Grace—”

He slams the butt of the scepter into the ground, and more skeleton warriors— _spartoi_ —erupt from the ground. They launch themselves towards Jason and his skeleton allies. 

“—have plenty to fear!”

Bianca and Nico are far off in the distance, shrinking near Prince Charming’s carousel. 

Jason keeps a close range of attack. He summons his own warriors to combat Bryce’s own and swipes at the ones that make it close to him. He’s still exhausted as he swings a knife at the spartoi—but it’s a fatigue that’s existed long before this quest. He’s quick and nimble as he disarms and dissolves a throng of skeletons—but he’s sloppy.

A couple of hours of sleep wasn’t going to erase months of exhaustion since the war. He’s in a better headspace since they made it to Disney World—but better doesn’t mean _best._ Bianca and he had fallen back into old habits in one glance—a familiar message from before she joined the Huntresses. One look was enough for them to weigh their priorities—the statue first, and Jason second. 

Nico’s, on the other hand, was a grave contrast. His look of concern and stubborn displeasure as he handed the knife is at the front of Jason’s mind, as Jason firmly grips the dagger between his fingers. The reminder of Nico’s words is almost a distraction on its own—but that would have to wait until later. 

The di Angelos had the statue, and Jason would find out what happened to Piper. Whatever else happened in between would have to be discussed later. Jason has to keep his priorities organized through this quest—losing focus was what cost him the scepter in the first place. 

One-by-two-by-twelve—the skeletons all dissolve as Jason defends himself with his knife. One lunges at him from behind, its skeletal finger grazing the back of Jason’s neck, and he spins around in time to slam a hand into its skull. It hits the ground, head shattering into a hundred pieces before dissolving into smoke.

The scepter glows as Bryce smirks, practically mocking Jason in its wake—and a dozen more skeletons appear, their shattered bones reaccumulating like a bony, misshapen puzzle.

“Oh,” Bryce purrs, “you’re good.”

Gross. 

Jason’s face twists, his hand tight against the knife. “Why don’t you put that down and face me one-on-one?”

“And miss out on this fun? Watching you brutally destroy these bastards’ second chance at life?” Bryce’s laughs, tossing the scepter around like a plaything. The birds at the top of the staff seem to croon under his grip, proud of its new wielder. 

Suddenly, the malformed skeletons creak and twitch as they bring their shattered hands to their forehead in an ugly salute, ready to give their undead life yet again for the Roman demigod.

Jason’s stomach twists in knots. Bryce’s green eyes seem to brighten each time Jason feels a wave of nausea.

“You’re wondering how I got this,” Bryce surmises. 

Jason thought that scepter was as good as gone back in Pompeii. For all he knew, Favonius had used the winds and carried it back to Croatia.

The cape Bryce wears is red, caked with the blood of past enemies. Jason would assume the other demigod wears it with pride—but staring at it makes him feel ill at ease. He’s seen what a Roman officer looked like—Reyna was a natural born leader. Thalia knew how to rouse a crowd to her side, and Percy valued loyalty over everything else. Nico embodied all of that. Bryce looks like an old ketchup stain in contrast.

The number of ghosts and skeletons Jason summoned in Pompeii comes back to him—a sickening wave of nausea just screams at Jason from the inside out as he stares at the scepter. Bryce wields the scepter with an enviable concentration—but the spartoi feel... _off_ under his command. 

“I’m worried you’re using that scepter for all the wrong reasons,” Jason rebukes. “And for reasons you don’t understand.” 

Dad had called the scepter an _amplifier_ for a child of Hades—nothing more than a decoration. 

Some decoration. Jason feels like he’s in a mosh pit at one of Thalia’s screamo concerts, with an army of crackled skeletons ready to headbang to the death. 

Bryce laughs in dismissal and none of Jason’s words matter. “Save that _greater good_ act for someone else, Grace. We both know what lengths _you’re_ willing to go through to win.”

Jason frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He awaits an answer, while a crooning grin dominates Bryce’s face—but gets nothing in return. Bryce sees the way Jason’s demeanor twists, and he laughs in a satisfaction that Jason doesn’t quite understand. 

“Octavian has promised me praetorship.” Bryce says instead. His eyes glint, and he slams the butt of the staff into the ground. “I don’t intend to let that power go to anyone else. Your sister and di Angelo will make great _servants_ after all of this is over.” 

The number of skeleton zombies doubles. Goosebumps rise against Jason’s skin, and the question goes unanswered. 

One spartoi comes up to him, trying to sink its teeth into his arm, and its jaw shatters on contact. Its hands wave around haphazardly, scrambling for the dagger in Jason’s hand—but one swift wave of his arm causes the spartoi to clatter backwards and dissolve.

More keep coming. Bryce has all the concentration Jason lacked after they left the House of Hades, and all of the arrogance of a leader that Nico refused to exercise. 

“I’m not the enemy,” Jason insists, as he looks at his current barrier. Some of the skeletons rouse—but others stay put, planting their bony feet in the ground and readying themselves for their first and final strike. “Turn around, _now._ ” 

They don’t budge. 

“They’re ignoring you because I’m better than you,” Bryce rouses, his lips curling into an irritating smirk. It’s an uncomfortable combination, that concentration and arrogance. “Look at you—such a _useless_ son of Pluto. You summoned what—a dozen? Two dozen spirits back in Pompeii, to aid you? Not _one_ of them thought you were worth returning this staff.”

“Taunts don’t work on me.” Jason’s gaze narrows, his lips pressing into a firm line. “And I don’t need that scepter to beat you. It sounds like you’ve lost a fight with my sister already.”

Bryce’s expression withers, ego tarnished at the mention of New Rome’s praetor.

“I knew the two of you were related the moment I saw you,” he spats. “Two _pathetic_ children under Pluto. Thalia had the perfect chance to reshape the Legion in the name of the Underworld, and she _wasted_ it. She’s a _disgrace_ to her father’s realm.”

Irritation bubbles in Jason’s chest. “You don’t know a thing about her.”

“What do _you_ know about her?” Bryce scoffs. “Look at your bloodline, Grace. Son of a has-been star—a weak woman. Everything Pluto did only made that woman’s life _worse._ She lost _everything._ Pluto gave her a daughter and she _hated_ her. Pluto gave her _you_ , and she _died._ ”

Jason’s hand tightens around the knife.

“My family has been blessed by Orcus for generations,” Bryce continues. “His ichor runs through nearly a century of Lawrences. We carry out deeds in his name and punish those who’ve broken vows. This country is already built on _thousands_ of lies. Even after all of those years of mistreatment from your father, your sister just bent over and took Jupiter’s dick like every other bitch—”

“Stop saying her name,” Jason snaps—and his pulse is quick at his chest. He rams the knife into another skeleton warrior and watches as it disintegrates into nothing.

But each one Jason manages to defeat, Bryce summons six more in its place. “You want to talk about yourself instead, Grace?”

Jason charges, his eyes on the scepter. Skeletons clatter and cartwheel, forcing themselves into a barricade around the son of Hades, with a laughing Bryce on the other side.

“A son of _Hades_ ,” Bryce muses, “who wants _nothing_ to do with the Underworld. Who has _no place_ at his father’s throne, much like how his father doesn’t belong in Olympus. You’re a _failure._ You’ve got such potent blood, yet you can’t even land one blow on _me._ ”

“I’m not the one hiding behind a dumb staff!” Jason exclaims, and he slams his way through the first wall of skeletons. They disintegrate on contact, dwindling away into smoke—but others cling onto his ankles and neck, desperately trying to slow him down.

The problem wasn’t that he couldn’t break through them—there were just too many. Each time Jason caused two to crumble, four more appeared, clinging onto his shins and yanking at his wrists. He wills them to relinquish their grip long enough to escape and turn on each other, but Bryce persists. Each blow to his army doesn’t worry him—it only makes him rejoice louder.

“Who says _I’m_ the one hiding?” Bryce laughs darkly. “I’m in a land of broken _vows_ , Grace! I live proudly as my ancestor’s legacy. You’re the one who refuses to acknowledge your father’s name. You’re so _bad_ at this that you messed up your mother’s name, too! Not even your own _sister_ wanted to be associated with you! She buried your mother’s name the moment that woman died!”

“What would you know about my family?” Jason’s gaze darts everywhere for skeletons jumping towards him—left, right, and above. “What do you even have against my sister?”

Bryce sneers. “Your sister exiled _my_ family. For years, we exerted power and funded New Rome, and she cast us aside over the death of one centurion—”

Jason pauses and peers at Bryce between the gaping holes of misshapen skulls. The anger emanates from the other demigod and pulses dully with the staff.

“—who had her death coming to her,” he spits. “Your sister was dumb enough to throw away a century of prestige over one life.” 

“Why would you kill your own ally?” Jason asks.

“Why did you?”

Again, Jason ceases. There’s a reprieve to the skeletons—just enough for Jason to see the smirk stretch across Bryce Lawrence’s face. His green eyes are repulsive—and Bryce stands there, trying his hardest to evoke some sort of rage from Jason.

But it’s not his _hardest_ , he realizes. Bryce is getting an infuriating pleasure trying to find every button to push, quickly digging into emotions where he saw openings. It’s not like Zoe, whose anger was derived from a warranted frustration. Bryce Lawrence was studying him, watching where to dig the knife for _fun._

“You’re different from your sister, Grace. You and I are a lot alike,” Bryce continues. He taps the scepter in his hand, conjuring a dozen more skeletons with ease while Jason tries his best not to curse out his father’s name over some stupid conductor. “She was too soft to instill the right punishment to that centurion. It would’ve been a dishonor to _my_ ancestor if I didn’t kill her. You know a thing about that, don’t you? Upholding the laws of death?”

“I’m nothing like you,” Jason dissents—and his blood grows cold even at the comparison.

“You’re more like me than you want to admit. Your sister is _soft._ ” Bryce scoffs. “Shielding the most powerful demigod at the age of ten when he could be our greatest weapon? Entrusting a son of _Neptune_ to take care of the Fifth Cohort? Holding off electing a new praetor because her girlfriend goes missing?”

Jason frowns. His skin crawls with any comparison drawn—and he _hates_ Bryce ever even uttering Thalia’s name. Another skeleton tugs at the back of Jason’s shirt, grazing right over his neck—and he slams his elbow into it. “I’d argue those are her better qualities.”

“But _you_ —” Bryce laughs, dismissing every word uttered by Jason. “—you know the value of the Underworld, don’t you? Jupiter may be King of the Gods, but at the end of the day, even he fears the day his life will come to an end. So much so that he closed off Olympus from _everyone. You’d_ rather leave those thoughts in the shadows. You try to be this _perfect little demigod_ and ignore _everything_ that got you here.” 

“What exactly do you think you know about me?” Jason drops into the shadows, the sound of a hundred skeletons clattering into the ground as they try to follow him. He reappears through Bryce’s silhouette, knife in hand. 

The proud legacy of Orcus smirks at him, not the least bit phased. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

He draws the gladius at his hip, but Jason takes the opportunity to swipe the scepter out of the other demigod’s hand. It somersaults into the air, feet away—and Jason lunges for it. 

“Not so fast!” Bryce shouts, and he wields the sword in front of Jason. 

Jason is quick, drawing his knife against the other demigod. He bobs out of the way as Bryce parries, and clacks his dagger against the blade.

Bryce lifts his sword again—and Jason twists out of the way. He hooks a foot under Bryce’s ankle, and the legacy of Orcus plops to the ground. “ _Agh! Fuck!_ ” 

Jason sprints for the staff, but an arm— _human_ arms clamp onto his leg, reducing Bryce to nothing more than a manchild. Bryce swings his gladius with a shiteating grin—and it snaps in two as the edge of the blade makes contact with Jason’s shin. 

His smile disappears in an instant. 

“Let _go_ ,” Jason demands, and he shimmies his leg from Bryce, while the other is pointed towards the staff. Bryce yanks at Jason’s leg, and the other demigod falls to the ground. 

“ _We’re not done_ ,” Bryce snarls. “That’s what you said, right?” 

Jason lands with his palms to the ground. Bryce lunges for the dagger in his hand. Around them, a horde of skeletons rattle back and forth, clumsily mimicking the fight between two children of the Underworld. As Jason rolls to recover, Bryce mounts him with an insufferable laugh. 

“You don’t stand a chance against me, with or without their staff,” Jason bites. He knocks Bryce off of him, while his spartoi charge the remaining minions, and pins Bryce to the ground, knife in one hand and Bryce’s throat in the other. 

Bryce wheezes, his face turning blue beneath Jason’s fingers. But he doesn’t look panicked. His hands clamor to Jason’s grip, and he has the nerve to bare his teeth. 

“Go ahead,” he urges. “Prove you’re _better_ than your sister. You’ve already done this once before.” 

Jason’s face twists. Bryce is grinning like a madman. 

“Are you Jason Grace? Slayer of Kronos, _killer of man?”_ Bryce asks, his throat vibrating with laughter beneath Jason’s thumb. “Or are you as pathetic as your sister?” 

“What do you think you know about me?” Jason presses. 

“What _don’t_ I know about you?” Bryce laughs, his hands tight around Jason’s wrists. “A pitiful son of Hades who can’t even figure out who he is. A _monster_ who’s trying to convince himself that he’s a _hero._ Some sorry sight who can’t figure out if he’s _good_ or _bad_ because all he cares about is whether or not he’s _pleasing_ people. I’ve never seen such a waste of a _human being_. Thalia may be a cunt, but you are _nothing.”_

Jason slams Bryce against the gravel, and the other demigod’s head rolls with laughter. Jason shoves the edge of the knife against the ground, and Bryce grins at his own reflection. “You _don’t_ talk about my sister that way.” 

“What are you gonna do?” Bryce urges. “Tell me. What’s going to happen to me, Grace? Are you gonna cry?”

“Tell me what you did with Piper.” Jason’s gaze narrows at the Legacy of Orcus, refusing to let Bryce chisel at his emotions. “And maybe I can work something out with Thalia so your family gets a lighter sentence.”

The edge of Bryce’s lip curls into an ugly maul of a smile. “Only half of what I’m going to do to your sister when I get a hold of her.”

Jason’s hand coils around the collar of Bryce’s shirt. He presses the tip of the knife further against the other demigod. “Thalia can handle herself. It’s _me_ you need to worry about.”

Bryce rolls his head back with a laugh, his crooked nose stroking the edge of the blade like an old friend. His green eyes gleam sickening wave. “You know why I’m not afraid of you? Because you can’t even keep a promise to _yourself._ You can’t even pick a path. All that power in the world, and you pretend you don’t fight.”

Jason keeps his eyes narrowed at Bryce, his grip tight around the dagger in his hand—but nothing he does is intimidating enough. “Piper. Tell me, now.”

“Or what?” Bryce just stares at him with a menacing smile. “Tell me, seriously.”

Gods, what Jason wouldn’t give just to throw Bryce in the flock of cuckoos Nico and he talked about. 

“Go ahead,” Bryce snaps, and he smirks. “Do to me what you did to Luke Castellan, Grace.”

Jason’s heart drops in his chest. 

His throat dries, blood running cold through his veins, and he hates that his hand suddenly falters at Bryce’s Adam’s apple.

“He sends his best regards from the Fields of Eternal Punishment.” Bryce smirks—and he melodramatically waves his head. “He’ll be glad to know you’re still using a _knife_ as your weapon of choice.”

“That’s—” Jason’s demeanor melts, and his gaze falls back to the dagger. Suddenly it takes every bit of will in him not to drop it. “I’m not—” 

_SCREEE…._

The sickening sound of metal against cement suddenly catches Jason’s attention before he can dwell—and he’s met with the sight of one of the disjointed spartoi with the scepter in its own hands, trying to sneak it out of Disney World.

“Stop!” Jason commands as he finds his voice—and the skeleton freezes in place, one bony foot in the air and staff wedged in its ribcage. “Destroy it!”

“ _NO!”_ Bryce screams from beneath Jason. “ _GIVE IT TO ME!”_

The rest of the skeleton’s body turns around and it sprints toward them at full speed, limbs jostling as it does so.

“What are you doing?” Jason cries. “ _Stop_!”

Bryce only laughs, his head high and voice filled with conceit. “How do you think I got the staff in the first place, Grace? You’re _nothing_ to them, just an _imposter_!”

He wriggles himself out of Jason’s grip and sprints to meet the skeleton halfway. His hand grazes the butt of the scepter.

It takes a moment for Jason to register Bryce’s escape, shaken—but then he dissolves and leaps from Bryce’s shadow once again. Jason drops the dagger reflexively and grips the scepter with both hands.

The metal scepter bellows with smoke as it’s suddenly wedged in a tug-of-war, soldiers sprouting from behind Bryce each time he gains the upper hand—and sway towards Jason when otherwise. 

“Give it up,” Bryce snaps. “You think your sister will want anything to do with you after she finds out what you did? How many lives were lost and swept under the rug because you _feel_ bad—?”

“Stop,” Jason rebuts, and he yanks at the staff—but Bryce’s grip is tight, his forehead digging into Jason’s own.

“She’ll leave you again,” Bryce taunts. “Just like your has-been mom, like the Furies, like di Angelo’s bitch sister _—”_

“ **Stop,** ” Jason tries again, gritting his teeth.

“Like _Luke,”_ Bryce finishes, and his green eyes gleam under the heat of the staff. “Because you’re **_nothing._** ”

Jason _snaps._

Darkness pistols through the lightbulbs. 

The music from the loud teacup ride suddenly halts—and the skeletons all suddenly stand in starch silence, their last movement echoing through the lot like sounds casted off a mountain range. In the retreating light, Bryce’s smirk remains stupidly smug—the last thing lit before everything is shrouded in shadows.

The air around Jason turns cold and brutal, coaxing every skeleton into a sense of comfort that came from the realm of the dead. 

“Attab—” A shadow tendril launches from the ground and wraps around Bryce’s wrist. Then another. Left, right—then a tether, at each ankle. Bryce’s body is yanked into the ground—

And the scepter pulses— _emanates_ with power in Jason’s hands.

The amusement park rides blink—darkness pounding through the bulbs with the beat of Jason’s heart—and Bryce’s smug demeanor fades with each blink—into _fear_ , and his lungs shrivel beneath his armor. He _rasps_ for air.

“I—” _Gasp. “C-Can’t—” GASP. “B-B-Breathe—”_

The bones in his fingers twitch—no different from the skeletons that fought back and forth for either child of the Underworld—and his arms bend at a 90-degree angle, in the opposite direction.

Bryce _screams._

Smoke casts off Diocletian’s scepter, but Jason is the one fuming.

He doesn’t want to hear it anymore. Any ill-spoken word against his sister, any slight against Nico, and any slander against Piper. 

Even the words against himself, Jason refuses to acknowledge. The anger _burns_ in him against the blistering cold around him. 

“You want to know how much I’m worth, Lawrence?” Jason snarls—and his voice is dark and cold, striking the same chord that he so often associates with his father’s realm. Every remaining skeleton soldier stands erect, heads turning and creaking at each of Jason’s movements—as he reigns over them as his birthright. 

But it’s not foreign to him.

It’s not terrifying to Jason the way it was last summer. The smoke helps shroud him in darkness, the pulse of his veins a lithe beat that rattles every remaining skeleton and—there's something else he can’t quite place. He’s comfortable, coveted in the shadows.

Jason doesn’t want to linger in the past anymore. He doesn’t want to keep battling his own ghosts. 

“I’m Jason Grace, son of Hades—”

Who had a sister, who loved him unconditionally from the moment they set eyes on each other.

Who had friends that wanted him to keep that door open. Friends, like Annabeth, and family like Uncle Gleeson, who wanted to help him at his lowest.

Friends, like Nico, who truly cared. Who stared at him from across an infirmary bed and _cared_ about _his_ decisions, even at the brink of consciousness. Who told him to _feel_ and _love_ and _hate_ freely.

He’s not doing it again. No more reanimating bodies, no more slip ups.

Jason has a choice. 

He exhales slowly, and the color returns to Bryce’s face. Bryce rasps for air, while Jason’s emotions come to a steady calm. Every joint pops back into place—he makes sure of it.

“—and your expectations don’t define me. I choose my own path.” Jason strengthens his bind over Bryce’s wrists and ankles. “You’ll be judged by… _whatever_ due process the Senate has like they did the first time. Whatever punishment they give you will be _mercy_ compared to the Underworld. But that’s not for me to decide.”

Bryce rasps for air, his chest heaving violently as the color slowly returns to his fearful face, and he looks up to Jason. 

Jason kneels, the staff still in his hand. He stares at Bryce, demeanor cool. 

“So tell me about Piper,” he says. “ _Now._ ” 

To his surprise, Bryce’s expression darkens into a withering glare as the other demigod’s chest rises and falls in a desperate grab for air. He bares his teeth into a crooked scowl, and writhes beneath the shadow tendrils.

_“Why_ ,” Bryce yells, “are you so _BORING?!”_

Jason opens his mouth to speak—

And the orb in the atop the scepter suddenly shatters—blinding Jason and throwing everything else into darkness.

*

Later, when Jason is better rested, he takes a guess why the scepter blew up in his face a second time. (Literally this time, after Pompeii.)

Too much power. Dad called it an amplifier. Something that aided other children of the Underworld, but was a joke to anyone of his lineage. It was good for a legacy like Bryce, whose blood was mixed with generations of mortals. Jason’s blood was volatile— from his father’s reputation, from his mother’s descent from fame, and his own choice to dip in the River Styx. The choice he made to change the tide of the war.

Jason was near invincible—but he had weak points. More than one. Bryce Lawrence apparently liked to twist the verbal dagger like a real one.

And—when it came to Luke…even the empousai knew where to hit him where it hurt. Bryce had picked and prodded at _everything_ that made Jason insecure, every word so reminiscent of Eros. 

But Jason let go of it. He wasn’t going to get as angry as he did that day, ever again—especially for a boy with a forgettable name. 

Letting go just happened to mean releasing all of the power that swelled in Diocletion’s scepter—which exploded and caused a blackout through all of Disney World.

Whoops.

He understands bits and pieces of what happened after that—and Nico fills in the blanks where it’s just _too_ blurry.

Every corner of the lot seemed to fill with skeletons—and ghosts, and undead bodies at the same time. Jason saw old Roman Cohorts and oathbreaking spartoi, and every innocent soul that just happened to be in the crossfire. Jason’s not sure _how_ many spirits he summoned.

It's different, from Pompeii, where _every_ death was suddenly exhumed, forming new ghosts with each of Jason’s panicked breath.

It’s nothing like the skeletons that were attuned to his emotions back in Puerto Rico, when every ounce of Jason’s soul was focused on saving Nico.

There’s too many, and they _crowd_ him, like a labyrinth—but it’s not overwhelming.

Not like the Battle for Manhattan, where he’s drowning in his own emotions.

When Jason drops the scepter a second time, there’s no shame—just confusion. Bryce gets caught in the crossfire—because Jason’s luck is just _that_ bad. 

(Note to self, he thinks—the Curse of Achilles apparently didn’t protect from (hopefully) temporary blindness.)

Jason sees silhouettes of bones and _senses_ souls, but his brain is a frenzy—like a rock trying to stand against many grains of sand. There are _some_ soldiers and _some_ zombies and _some_ ghosts—but Jason has trouble distinguishing them.

He hears fighting, though. Jason has his hands in front of him, trying to reorient himself with his surroundings.

Then—through the darkness cuts a blade of lightning.

Jason cocks his head as a ribbon of electricity breaks through the sky—and lights up Nico di Angelo—Praetor to the Twelfth Legion. The lightning skirts around a golden eagle staff resting firmly in Nico’s hand, and Jason gets the vaguest sense of déjà vu.

But even _that’s_ different from Pompeii. Jason’s not sure what changed in their short time away from each other, but Nico’s aura is different.

“ _Legion_ ,” Nico calls—and his voice is sharp, filled with a confidence as he’s backed by a different pack altogether. _“Mandata captate._ ”

“ _NO!”_ A voice calls from behind Jason—and it’s the last look that Jason ever sees of Bryce—eyes bloodshot from popped vessels, face burned and bruised from impact, and fingers sticking in different, crooked directions as he clamors to his feet. “You follow **_me_.**”

The oath-breakers stagger, Mickey Mouse ears vibrating over their skulls. The undead Romans don’t flinch.

Nico flashes a look that Jason can’t decipher from a distance. He shouts a phrase, too, which is repeated by the cohorts behind him—and they charge.

Everything after that is a blur. There’s a battle raging around Jason, and he can hardly feel his way around. The ground beneath his feet shakes as— _whatever_ team Nico brought with him into battle. There’s a skittering of an animal behind Jason, and he thinks Mrs. O’Leary lets out an overzealous warcry while Uncle Gleeson alternates between swinging his club and singing _Gotta Kill Them All_ merrily.

_“_ …son!” He hears, coming from somewhere. “Ja…son. J…son!”

Jason cocks his head in every which direction. Someone grabs his hand.

“…pening to him?” Bianca.

“Scepter…broke…rkness…” Nico.

“I…ca…cha…mspeak—" _Piper_?

“No! …doesn’t…ike th…t…” Whoever’s holding his hand gives it a soft squeeze, rubbing soft circles into his wrist in a familiar pattern. “…lax now, Jason. Every…ng’s…kay now.”

Lax.

Relax.

Relax now, Jason.

Jason takes a shaky breath—and slowly guides himself down to a sitting position. He presses a hand to one of his temples and firmly squeezes the hand in front of him. Feels it—the callouses from wielding a sword and—the haziness as he thumbs each knuckle. Jason’s head snaps to attention in front of him with a familiar concern—and he sees color. Blue.

“…kay, Jason,” Nico whispers. “Eve…ything’s going to get b…tter from her…”

He’s confident as he says it. Nico’s been a steady force beside Jason for a while now—since Eros made Jason explode the first time. Nico had departed for better or worse now—but he came back, each and every time.

So, blinded and disoriented, Jason trusts him.

“Okay,” Jason utters.

As he shuts his eyes, darkness consumes him a second time.

*

As if reality couldn’t get strange enough, Jason’s dreams feel even weirder. They don’t feel like his _._

He sees something from another person’s life—several different people, in other scenarios. In one dream, he sees a chubby-handed little boy with blue-stained lips, who opens the refrigerator to grab a sugary drink. One Kool-Aid for himself—and another for Dad, God of his Fifth Birthday Party.

In another, he sees Piper McLean, daughter of Aphrodite, brushing Reyna’s long hair in a far corner of Cabin Ten. The vanity mirror reflects the high curve of her lips as she smiles and the adoration in her eyes—before she wields a pair of scissors in her hands.

Dream Reyna offers a half-teasing look. “I’m not going to lose an ear, am I?”

“You never know,” Piper teases back. “I’m a dangerous girl, Ramirez-Arellano.”

His dream morphs—and he sees a young Thalia next, under bright blue and purple lights, while the sound of arcade games and slot machines blast in the distance.

Her frame is much smaller than Jason’s ever seen, the holes in her jeans decorated with safety pins while she wears an acid-wash denim jacket filled with pins and buttons from various bands. It’s different from the praetor robes and armor that Jason has come to associate with his big sister—but the air is still the same. 

Everything about her screams _guarded_ and _wary_ —yet she stares at a blue-eyed boy, no older than ten, puzzled at his existence.

He points to the mace canister at her belt excitedly—making a new friend despite everyone else around them. “I saw that! It was a spear!”

Thalia stares at him inquisitively—and every bit of mistrust diminishes from her face. “A _pilum_ , actually.”

They aren’t Jason’s dreams—but memories, of others.

Ghosts, of former selves.

He sees his mother in her early-twenties, with her cerulean blue eyes—the ones that weren’t yet fractured by Hollywood. She’s in the beginning stages of her rise to fame, her pale blond hair overteased and makeup well done.

His father stands before her, emanating with a regal air of authority. Souls pools in his leather jacket, his appearance sharp and handsome—better than every other star that clamored for riches in the City of Angels. His frame is thin and nimble—as delicate as a shadow, but his presence is as important as breathing itself, the hue of his eyes dripping with a darkness that contrasts Beryl’s. Her gaze was aimed at the stars. 

And she isn’t afraid. Beryl holds Thalia’s sharp-tongue and wild gleam—and she _welcomes_ the attention of the King of Riches.

“You strive for fame?” Pluto asks, the rings over his knuckles shining as he folds them over his lap.

“There’s nothing more important than my name,” Beryl boasts. “Everyone else is _beneath_ me.”

The dreamscape changes, and Jason sees himself as a newborn baby, coiled in a baby blue blanket and pink from childbirth. His hair is dark in this moment in time, pressed to his face with his mother’s kiss. All around them are bouquets of flowers and congratulatory gifts—royalties, from all of the movie sets graced with Beryl’s presence—but it doesn’t matter.

The gifts are beneath her, in the presence of family. Hades sits there, holding a curious Thalia’s hand—

—and Jason stares because he’s never seen the four of them together before.

When Beryl Grace smiles, her eyes shimmer like aquamarines. Thalia crawls on the bed to plant a kiss on baby Jason’s tiny head.

“Can I get you anything else, my love?” Hades whispers—his voice delicate. Jason never knew how sweet it could sound.

“This is enough,” she says—in a voice that Hollywood isn’t privileged to hear. “Jason is enough.”

Jason stares at her—at her pale, tired appearance and her platinum blond hair—and a lump swells in his throat. His vision blurs with tears. 

And then he sees himself at the age of fourteen in a storage facility in Pasadena—everything of Beryl Grace’s legacy that wasn’t sold off to pay her debts packed into one 5 by 5 by 8 unit.

The metal lock had been tampered with back then—and fourteen-year-old Jason found it strange. The photo albums were sparse—every other photo or so absent with each page—and Jason wouldn’t recognize his mother as the same movie star who romanced the King of Riches. 

Annabeth had found newspaper headlines titled— ** _Fall from Grace - Washed Out Starlight._** Beryl is paler in the photos—not as put together. When she smiles, there’s nothing striking about it—just a ghost of her former self. 

Bianca had excitedly found his father’s jacket and thrown it over Jason’s shoulders. 

“Why hold an estate sale to pay off her debts,” Annabeth noted, holding up an intricately designed ring, “and not start with the big rock?” 

Jason had stared at it—and a wave of nausea hit him. The scent of liquor burned in his nostrils and it leaked with an aura of death. In an instant, he knew Beryl was wearing it the moment she died. 

“Because it’s filled with bad luck,” he mused half-heartedly. “Like me.” 

He’d pocketed it back then, where it remains on his person, to remind himself of his roots. Of Beryl Grace _and_ Hades, King of the Underworld. Both of his misfortunes. 

His dreamscape changes once again into nothing.

Into an abyss of darkness that makes him wonder if he ever closed his eyes. 

But he remembers it enveloping him down in Tartarus—when the shadows weren’t his own, and he was at the cusp of defeat, starving with Nyx laughing around him and Luke whispering in his ears. 

Maybe it _was_ Luke down there. Maybe he wanted to punish Jason even in death, for being disallowed from making it to Elysium. Nothing hurt Jason’s heart more than having to send it to the Fields of Eternal Punishment. Jason knew Luke would never find peace there—and based on Bryce’s words, his heart wouldn’t, either.

He stares expectantly into the dark, his hands curling over…not really anything. Jason remembers holding onto something when he was awake, but it doesn’t exist with him here. Not now. 

“Go ahead,” Jason calls—and his voice echoes off boundless darkness and vibrates at the shell of his ears. He’s just tired now. “Show him to me.” 

The words bounce off to...who knows where. Maybe Clovis hears him talking to himself like a crazy man. 

Then he sees blue. 

Vibrant, sunny blue with delicate clouds stretched across the expanse of the sky. Water washes up against the shore, with the sounds of seagulls carrying off against the winds with beautiful trills. Under the spring warmth, the breeze is cold—

—but it’s paradise. 

Jason snaps out of his thoughts as an empty boat cruises toward him. He’s knee-deep in water, jeans drenched from an ocean he isn’t familiar with. It’s nothing like the port in Odesa, or the coast of Long Island Sound. The boat is rickety and filled with wood rot and seaweed—having long been forgotten and abandoned.

He slowly plucks himself out of the water and quickly inspects himself. No scepter, no knife—no Bryce. No Luke.

As he walks, he takes in the sight of lush grass-covered hills, and a garden filled with a strange silver flowers that illuminate with an unearthly glow. After a short distance, Jason finds people. He catches onto a conversation not his own.

“…ygia is her punishment for supporting the wrong side of the war. When you were sent here, you were not meant to stay.”

The voice is cold. Chilling and thin, like the first breeze of a winter’s day. In one string of words alone, the person—the _god_ —makes everything else sound like it’s lesser.

Zeus stands in a sand bed, looming at twelve-feet tall in a polished pinstriped suit, with a ruggedly handsome face beneath his salt-and-pepper beard. His shoulders are broad—as wide as the wingspan of a giant eagle, and the vibrance of his electric blue eyes makes the tropical sky look absent of color.

There’s a girl there—about fifteen or sixteen. Her white chiton makes Zeus’s suit appear out of place on the island, while a wave of caramel-colored hair falls down her shoulders. Her face is beguiling in a way that Jason has come to associate with magical beings or creatures, like the empousa.

But it’s the person standing beside her that catches Jason’s attention.

Bianca, with her hand laced around the other girl’s like a lifeline.

She’s dressed in an outfit similar to the girl beside her, in a pristine Greek chiton and barefoot—no weapon to be seen. Her expression is grim—mimicking the sneer and dimness of Zeus’s face with no effort as she stands in defiance.

Zeus doesn’t like it. The ire grows as Bianca’s silence does.

“You were supposed to _leave_ , child.” Zeus stares at her, the disappointment dark in his expression. “The raft appeared _weeks_ ago.”

“I chose to stay,” Bianca insists. Her demeanor wilts ever-so slightly, and she turns her head to meet the other girl’s gaze. “ _Papa_ —”

“Don’t _papa_ me, child,” Zeus dismisses—and every other word Bianca intends to share evaporates. “There is a prophecy that will decide the fate of the world. The fate of _Olympus._ You’ve had your fun and merriment—but now you leave. Your little nymph here once stood against my place on the throne.”

“ _Little nymph_?” the girl repeats—and even from yards away, Jason can tell her blood is boiling.

But Bianca doesn’t budge. She stares at Zeus, her expression hard. “I’m not going. If Calypso’s fate is tied here, so is mine.”

The name registers in Jason’s ear—and he’s quick to recall the story—but Zeus’s anger is quicker.

The sky darkens above them, thunder crackling in the distance. Much like Zeus himself, it only takes one string of words to evoke with anger. The air becomes ionic, sparking and zapping with the spikes of Zeus’s irritation, and the goosebumps rise across Jason’s forearms.

“So long as you are my _daughter_ ,” he spits, the electricity biting with his words, “so long as you are _mine_ to claim, you will _fight._ ”

Bianca’s demeanor twists—and Jason sees it in her face. The same grimness that she carried ever since coming back from the Labyrinth. Her hands shake at her sides—and then she throws them in the air, tears at the edge of her eyes in a rueful pain. “I was _never_ yours to claim. Neither was my brother! He'd still be alive if it weren’t for you!”

“His fate was never meant to tie with yours,” Zeus dismisses. “Stellina—”

“ _No! You_ don’t get to call me that! You _never_ get to call me that! _”_ Bianca hisses—and her lips are marred by a pained scowl. “You already have a hero. I have a life. You’re not taking it away from me a second time.”

She turns on her heel, digging her foot into the sand, and takes Calypso’s hand in her own.

The clouds above swell with rage, dimming to a shade darker than shadows. Ribbons of lightning shoot across the sky—

_BOOOOM_

—and one slams into the garden. Calypso’s silver flowers explode across sand and dirt, while both girls cling onto each other in protection. Winds blast across the island, picking debris and forcing the waves to lap over each other. Jason covers his face—lest he wanted to be blinded a _second_ time—and the sky shakes under the rage of the King of the Gods.

Fire explodes across Calypso’s grove—encapsulating everything in its nearby surroundings. Flowerbeds, crops, trees—everything.

“No!” Calypso cries—and she sprints towards her garden, leaving Bianca behind.

The once-thin clouds billow with more smoke than the scepter like the underbelly of a beast. Not one drop of rain falls from above to save her home. 

Bianca stares onwards in shock, shaking, and mouth hanging open. Slowly, she turns her head to her father—who hasn’t faltered.

“Stop this,” she begs—but Zeus doesn’t flinch.

He stares at her with a harsh demeanor, ready to lift his hand to the sky once more to summon his symbol of power.

“Choose wisely, child,” he advises. Threatens. “Before I make that decision for you.”

Jason wakes up.

*

Everything’s still a little blurry when he comes to. Jason’s head pounds as he finds himself stirring and his nostrils burn. Orange streaks the sky in the early morning—tufts of white clouds still transparent behind the Magic Kingdom.

“Steady, Jason.”

He turns his head slowly—and gradually, his eyes lift to the person who spoke to him. He sees blue irises first—and the outline of frenzied hair. “Mom?”

There’s a laugh. Eventually, Jason focuses enough to realize it’s Bianca, and his cheeks flush. She offers him a tall glass of water with a Mickey Mouse silly straw. “Must’ve been some dream you had if you’re calling me _Mom_ , Jace.”

At some point in battle, Bianca’s hair had come undone—jutting in every which direction as though she’d stuck her head behind a jet engine. Her yellow dress is stained red, shoulder bandaged with gauze. Her appearance is as wild as in his dream, shaken by a violent storm—but her expression is centered. Instead of turning away, she looks up dead on, her expression filled with warmth.

Jason looks to their immediate surroundings slowly and finds himself splayed across one of the benches, with Bianca kneeling beside him.

Then a thought occurs to him. The panic sets in, and Jason quickly looks every which way, alarmed. “Where’s Nico?”

Bianca squeezes his shoulder, her touch gentle, and points to the left.

Off in the distance, Jason sees Nico along with—

“Is that the Legion?” Jason asks, shocked. “And Piper?”

Jason never hung around Camp Jupiter long enough to really know the ins and outs of how the Legion worked. He read, mostly, about war tactics when they were trying to figure out the best strategies against Kronos, so he knows there’s no way that a few dozen soldiers made up the Twelfth Legion—but there’s certainly more there than when he sent Bianca and Nico off to safety.

Nico looks at ease, standing next to the daughter of Aphrodite and a chubby boy that vaguely reminds Jason of the one in his dreams. His purple cape pours down his back, while a staff mounted by an eagle sits carefully in his hand. He doesn’t shroud his cohorts in height—far from it, unlike the intimidation that Zeus insisted on forcing upon his daughter. But they hang onto every word, smiling. There’s a hiccup, where Nico’s face twists—and Piper squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

Family, Jason reminds himself. Nico desperately wanted to get back to family.

“He got pulled away. I said I’d watch you for him,” she explains. “This role suits him.”

Jason turns his head back to the other demigod. To the wistfulness that Jason is used to as it casts across her face. There’s more there now.

“You never wanted that role,” Jason remarks He pushes himself into a sitting position and sips water. Her blue eyes turn back to him, teeming with a sense of remorse that he’s familiar with.

“Neither did you,” she says. Something she’s never acknowledged before.

Jason stares at her, and he can’t help but think back to the oak tree they used to sit under at Camp Halfblood when they pretended they were anywhere else but camp.

“You,” Jason says gently, “never told me what happened to you after the Labyrinth.”

Bianca’s eyes widen with surprise—and then her gaze falls, her hand slowly raising to her shoulder to hide her aching heart. There’s a silence—then a wave of emotion that passes through her eyes as she relives her own ghosts.

“How much did you see?” she asks, finally.

“Enough,” Jason admits. His hands twitch, and he slowly brushes a hand against the back of his neck to inspect himself. “Bianca, I…”

“I left you before you knew I left you,” she interrupts, and she winces as she tries to smooth her hair with both hands. “I hurt you before you knew I was going to hurt you.”

“It’s...not like you intended to get blasted out of the Labyrinth, Bee.” Jason makes a face and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “If…I had the chance to fall in love with a pretty girl and live the rest of my days out on a magical floating island instead of fighting a war, I’d be happy too.”

She smiles sadly at him—and something tells Jason that he barely scraped the surface of her star-crossed paradise. The misery she wore after returning to Camp Halfblood shows in a tired wave now—and Jason thinks he understands.

Zeus took her life away. Her two moms, for the sake of having a claim in a future war. Her brother, to have _twice_ as many chances, twice as many claims. Jason remembers Percy telling him that Nico slaying Krios was met with an offer of immortality. Jason’s gift for doing the same to Kronos was blanketed in an earful about how Bianca should have been the savior. Jason was so abysmal to Zeus’s gamble that all he received was the door.

Bianca forced a path for herself so Zeus would stop taking her decisions away. He had no claim when she became a Huntress—she was that first, and finally his daughter second.

“You’re halfway there, Jace,” she jests weakly. Bianca points to his pink parrot shirt. “Just trade Ogygia for Puerto Rico and you’ve basically been on an island getaway with my brother.”

Jason plucks at his own shirt, which is riddled with holes and punctures thanks to Amazons and spartoi now. He tries for a laugh—but it’s weak. Then Jason curls the edge of his finger in his pocket, where his mother’s ring still rests. Slowly, his eyes rise across the way again to Nico, near the Fifth Cohort. Right where Thalia had guided him all of those years ago.

“He’s been good to me,” Jason says.

“That makes one of us,” Bianca remarks. It’s meant to come out lightheartedly but falls flat. 

Jason turns his gaze back to Nico and notices the di Angelo siblings hesitantly stealing glances at one another. Jason shifts uncomfortably in his bench. A protective urge arises for Nico—but his chest aches as he thinks about his dream.

“Something happen?” He guesses.

“Something, alright.” Bianca flashes another look at him—and he wonders if his name came up in conversation, too.

Well, this was awkward.

“You would’ve left,” Bianca says, to change the subject. “Ogygia, I mean. You’re way more selfless than I am, Jace. I—”

She pauses. Slowly, her gaze skirts back to Nico. This time, they make eye contact.

“—I thought I lost everything. Cal, she…she was finally _something_.” Bianca’s expression withers. First into shame, then it hardens as it accepts an old truth. Her voice is callous. “I thought my world was already gone. I wouldn’t have cared if Zeus lost his, too.”

Jason’s not sure what to say. He’s known Bianca to mourn since their first meeting—but something about this feels different. Bianca says the name of the island with such a tender warmth that he thinks he hears her for the first time since coming back from the Labyrinth. Since before she shut everyone else out.

“I’m never going to get that back,” she says softly. “My world.”

The world with her two moms and her little brother.

Jason struggles to find his voice. He hesitates. “When…this war is over, Bianca—”

“I know,” she tells him. She turns her head back to him, the edge of her lip curling into a tiny smile. “I know what choices got me here, Jace.”

Again, he isn’t sure what to say.

At that moment, Nico decides to walk over. Even in his silly button up and Bermuda shorts, he holds an air of authority fit for a military leader.

Bianca stands to her feet, a rush of emotion rising with her, and she stares at her little brother. She opens her mouth to speak—and nothing comes out.

Nico stares back at her, and the same wave of discomfort from before the battle shows across his face. His gaze darts to Jason momentarily, and he shifts between his feet.

“I’m,” Bianca says finally, “going to go check on Mrs. O’Leary.”

Nico glances at her, his lips pressed into a cautious line—and then he nods.

Bianca turns her head briefly to catch Jason’s eye. Then slowly, she saunters off into a different direction—away from the Roman demigods, even. Jason sees her flash them an uncertain look before distancing herself from the life that Nico created for himself.

“How are you feeling?” Nico asks—which snaps Jason out of his thoughts. The expression on Nico’s face changes in the absence of his sister. There’s a concern there, as Nico lets himself breathe.

“I’m…okay, actually.” Jason rubs his forehead gently and blinks. The words are light on his tongue as he turns to meet Nico’s eyes. He finds himself easily able to meet them. “I’m not even sure what happened. How long was I out?”

Nico stares back at him as though he’s grown a second head. He lowers his gaze, looking torn between exasperation and amusement. “Forty-five minutes, Jason.”

_Only_ forty-five minutes.

All of those visions in less than an hour—and a testament to how little he’s slept on this quest. 

“Oh.” Jason blinks as the words sink in. He stares down at his own two hands—which not even an hour ago, wielded both a knife and scepter.

“And,” Nico begins slowly, “as for what happened…”

He brings light to where Jason was left in the dark. First, the scepter. Jason had caused a blackout to the greater Orlando area. He broke every light bulb Disney World had and eclipsed the theme park in darkness. Luckily it was the middle of the night—but any nearby bars or dance clubs were probably very confused by the power outage.

“Whoops,” Jason mumbles, and he rubs his forehead again.

Nico stares at him with deadpan. And repeats, “Whoops. You shatter a scepter, blind yourself, and all you can say is whoops.”

“Frankly,” Jason admits—and he inspects Nico up close. Nico’s hands look like they’re in better shape. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

There’s a pink tint to Nico’s cheeks, visible only in the early streams of twilight. He stares at Jason carefully, and nods. “You too, Jason.”

Jason smiles.

Ghosts had erupted from the ground like Pompeii—drawn to the intoxicating aura of the son of Hades and Hero of Olympus. There was an assembly of wandering spirits, oathbreakers, and old Roman Legionnaires, all in the midst of chaos while Jason waved his hands around like an idiot trying to get a grasp of reality.

(Nico says the last part more nicely, but Jason can only imagine how dumb he looked.)

“I got the undead Legionnaires to listen to me,” Nico explains. He rubs the tattoo on his arm. “I…think they saw the Legionnaires behind me and knew where their loyalties should lie.”

Jason stares at the other demigod, impressed. He turns his head back to the living legionnaires lingering off in the distance, who bask in the moment of reprieve. They look disheveled from their time in the Labyrinth—but smile at each other, huddled together and sharing stolen Disney World food. Piper sits with them, occasionally glancing in the direction Bianca disappeared out of curiosity. Jason knows just how important it is that _she’s_ there.

“That’s quite a few more legionnaires than what was in the Necromanteion,” Jason notes. He turns his attention back to Nico, and the corner of his lips etch into a tired smile. He can’t help feeling proud. “You’ve come a long way for someone who didn’t want to be praetor.”

Nico flushes red, bashful at the compliment. His gaze falls uncomfortably, and his shoulders lift into a tiny shrug. “The Fifth Cohort is familiar to me. More so than the others. I’m…not good with things I’m not familiar with.”

He raises his gaze reluctantly and eyes Jason. Jason’s mind flies back to their first few meetings—and just how little Nico cared getting to know him. Back then, Jason never expected to be anything more than courteous with Nico di Angelo—and now he finds himself thinking about Nico before anyone else.

Nico glances to Mrs. O’Leary, where Bianca rests. Someone he’s not familiar with.

Jason wonders even more what happened. Neither one of them seemed eager to share. 

“She’s proud of you too,” Jason offers. “Mostly she’s just shocked how much you’ve grown up.”

Nico peers back to him, doubtful.

Jason scoots aside and pats the space beside him. Nico takes the gesture wordlessly and sits down.

“Time to talk about her?” Jason asks.

Nico makes a face. “She’s your best friend. Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Ah…little,” Jason confesses, his demeanor twisting sheepishly. He looks onward to Bianca, who chooses to isolate herself in the comfort of Mrs. O’Leary. “But I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me about her since we first met. What we have…is…”

He watches as Nico’s eyebrow arches in the air.

“What we have?” Nico repeats.

“Our friendship. It’s…different. I was wrong when we first met,” Jason confesses. “You and Bianca are different. I like talking to you.”

“You don’t like talking to Bianca?”

“It’s not easy to talk about myself with Bianca. With most people. Myself.” Jason rubs his hands together, and then touches the back of his neck. “Me.”

Nico stares at him inquisitively—long enough for Jason to blush and realize the sentence didn’t make much sense to himself, either. “What happened when you fought Bryce?”

At the mention of the legacy of Orcus, Jason’s heart rate suddenly spikes. He sits stiffly in his seat, once again alarmed, and looks around. “Where _is_ Bryce?”

His gaze flies in every which direction—only stopped when Nico touches his shoulder in efforts to calm him. “Piper killed him. Technically.”

Jason stares at the other demigod, wondering if he heard correctly. “How do you _technically_ kill someone?”

“You charmspeak someone to punish themselves in the worst way they can imagine,” Nico recounts—and his face pales at the memory of the daughter of Aphrodite. “You don’t want to know what Mrs. O’Leary is chewing on right now.”

Jason’s mouth parts, unsure of what to say. He considers asking for details after Bryce was such a nuisance—but he’s not sure he wants them. He’s numb to the death itself—but it’s strange to be in the middle of a fight and…do nothing. Nico had insisted on protecting all of them when they were first crossing countries—but so much had changed now.

Nico seems to catch onto his reluctance.

“Bryce’s family has funded Camp Jupiter for generations,” Nico explains. “Generations are common in New Rome. Bellona watched over Reyna’s family for a long time before she and Reyna’s dad fell in love. Orcus is fully Roman.”

“Like Bellona,” Jason notes.

“Like Bellona,” Nico agrees. “Since his family’s so rich, the Lawrences felt like they should have more of a say in how New Rome was run. Which traditions to be upheld.”

His expression darkens, which is when Jason recalls what Bryce had also said. “He wanted to enforce old punishments.”

Nico nods. “It…was one of the first things that Thalia ever had to deal with when she became praetor. This older centurion, Maeve—she went on a quest with two legionnaires and came back alone. In the old days, if a legionnaire deserted their comrades, it was grounds for death. Thalia said discharge would be enough. Bryce didn’t agree. And—judging from the way you’re looking at me, I’m guessing you know how the rest of that story goes.”

“Yeah.” Jason soaks in the new information with a new respect for his big sister—the one who redefined their father’s name in New Rome. “That couldn’t have been easy for her.”

“Good decisions and bad decisions,” Nico quotes. “Always hard.”

“Always hard,” Jason agrees—and he notes the exhaustion on Nico’s face. “I wanted to kill him myself after everything he said about Thalia.”

Nico eyes him carefully.

“I didn’t, obviously,” Jason admits. He stares down at his own hands and finds them steady. “I had a choice. He wasn’t worth getting bent out of shape over, at least for me. I chose for myself.”

For all the anger that Jason had against Bryce Lawrence about Thalia, Nico, and Piper, putting down the scepter and dagger was a decision that made him feel the most like himself. He found solace not in anger—but in family. Jason struggled to meet Annabeth’s eye after Luke and was tunnel-visioned into trying to nurse Nico back to health while Uncle Gleeson was trying to help—but that was all him.

Dad said to use his voice. Jason thinks he’s finally finding it after sixteen years.

As he looks back up, he’s met with a smile across Nico’s face. One of approval.

“You always should’ve had a choice,” Nico says. “Being…pigeonholed into the prophecy like that…it’s not fair to you.”

“I…put myself there,” Jason admits, and he touches the back of his neck once again. “The gods were worried about their fate, but I…had a hard time imagining life after my birthday, Nico.”

He thinks of all the years Bianca spent fighting the prophecy and trying to be ordinary. She wanted to go to school and have normal friends—to move on from a life that ripped her away from her brother. Jason didn’t consider it an option until she came into his life as a gust of wind.

He didn’t think it was _feasible_ , until Nico appeared. To love, to hate, to feel—things, other than trying to survive the next fight.

“So don’t anymore,” Nico says now. His expression twists. “We can’t control the gods’ whim—but we can control ourselves. What decisions we make. Have a life after sixteen, Jason. One where you don’t have to fight.”

He says it with confidence that Jason wants to believe. Nico holds out a hand expectantly—which is when Jason realizes the knife is still on his person. He’s not sure how it ended up with him after such an upstart with Bryce—but it sits beside him, opposite to Nico.

And Nico’s not just asking for it back. He’s waiting for Jason to shut the door on _that_ life.

Jason picks up the knife and stares at it carefully. He hands it back to Nico at first—and halts before Nico can take it away.

“I’m still going to do everything I can in this war,” Jason insists. He doesn’t think he can bear the thought of losing anyone else important to him. “But—after that…”

Nico studies his face carefully, then nods.

“Everything you _can._ Not everything you think you need to do,” he says sharply, and his gaze narrows. “Not wanting to fight doesn’t make you lesser than anyone, Jason. It just makes you human.”

Human Jason Grace. It’s a funny phrase—but Jason thinks he likes the title compared to everything else that’s ever been lumped with his name. He exhales slowly, relaxing, and feels a new ease. Finally, he returns the knife. “Thank you, Nico.”

“No problem.” Nico latches it onto his belt. They sit in a silence—and slowly, his gaze falls back to Bianca. He rubs his tattoo awkwardly.

“I,” Jason says slowly, “can’t help but think we were supposed to be talking about you.”

Nico’s eyes flutter back to him. Jason’s reminded of walking up to the Little Tiber when the two Fifth Cohort centurions were skipping rocks across the river. He’d found Nico’s face mesmerizing—but he couldn’t figure out why until Thalia formally introduced him. That conversation had ended with a darkened sky and Nico’s anger—again, about Bianca.

This one doesn’t.

“She’s already ready to leave again,” Nico says. He crosses his arms, frustrated, and glares at the ground. “Bianca and I…we…”

He shifts uncomfortably, and Jason picks up on it.

“We,” Jason starts, “don’t have to—”

“We were different,” Nico says finally. “Different from Thalia, Percy, and Reyna. I mean—she and I bickered, but not like them. I love her. I _do_. But I can’t just…keep _feeling_ all of those feelings from the first time I thought she died. It was already hard enough back then.”

His eyes flash with a weathered grief—something Jason had expected the first time instead of a candid dismissal. He picks up on Nico’s anxiousness—and he compares it to how Bianca grieved before her death. Every instance she _tried_ to move on and couldn’t.

How close she came when she found a new love before that was ripped away from her.

“I don’t think she’s trying to leave you again, Nico,” Jason says finally. “I…think she’s doing everything she can just to see you again. Even if it’s just as brief as this quest.”

Nico eyes him carefully. He bites the inside of his mouth—and rubs his tattoo again. “I don’t even know what to say to her.”

“Speaking as someone who’s bad at using his words,” Jason says—his demeanor sheepish as Nico lifts an eyebrow. “I’d say that would be a good place to start.”

Nico snorts—but he looks a little more at ease with Jason’s coaxing.

“It’s...not my place to put myself between you and your sister. I can tell you that you’ve always been more important to her than the prophecy. More important than anyone else. Bianca’s…always done what she’s wanted since I’ve met her,” Jason says. “But always because she was trying to move on. You’re allowed to do what you want, too, you know. You have that choice.”

There’s a minute silence. Then, Nico asks, “What if I don’t want to say goodbye?”

Jason shifts uncomfortably in his chair, unsure of what to say. The way Nico stares at him, he knows his own bias becomes harder. Jason praises Thalia for being able to lower the punishment for Nico’s old centurion—but in some ways, Bryce was right. There were rules. Rules kept Jason grounded in life when everything was so overwhelming.

“You can’t say goodbye without saying hello first,” he says finally. “I…think—if it were me, I’d regret it if I didn’t get that far with Thalia.”

Nico lowers his head, deep in thought as he takes in the words.

Eventually, the sky looks more blue than pastel orange. They all conjoin in the center—Bianca and Coach Hedge coming from one direction, and Piper and spare legionnaires coming from another. Jason stands to his feet and helps Nico up.

Uncle Gleeson stomps a hoof impatiently into the ground. “How could _you_ get kidnapped, Grace?! You’re better than that!”

“I didn’t actually get kidnapped, Uncle Gleeson,” Jason reassures. “I’m okay. Really.”

And he means it. Uncle Gleeson eyes him suspiciously—and then gives him a quick, conspicuous hug before grumbling under his breath.

Jason turns to meet Piper’s gaze and gets a better look at the armor she’s sporting.

She locks eyes with him. “Glad to see you’re feeling better, Jason.”

“You too.” The corner of Jason’s lips lifts awkwardly. “This look suits you.”

Piper stares at him curiously—but it’s obvious that she’s indifferent to his presence. She turns to look at Nico again. “What’s the plan from here? More property damage?”

“Mrs. O’Leary is ready to go with the Athena Parthenos,” Bianca interjects. She smiles fully and turns her gaze to Jason. “We’re finally going home, Jace.”

Home, at Camp Halfblood. With peaceful campfires and the same twelve cabins that are all too familiar to Jason. It’s strange to think about after so many months away—after _Tartarus_ —but there’s a calm to it. The Roman demigods look wistful behind Piper.

From the corner of his eye, Jason can see Nico looking away.

*

Jason doublechecks the knots around the Virgin Athena. Mrs. O’Leary is happy to see him awake and okay—licking him from foot to ear when he comes close. Her excitement is so infectious that he can’t help his own grin as she kisses him.

“I promise,” Jason says, “unlimited doggie treats after this.”

“ _RRRRUUUFF!”_ Mrs. O’Leary says, and she hops excitedly at his words.

Nico returns from who-knows-where with Jason’s gladius. Jason stares at it—genuinely wondering where it’d been misplaced in the chaos of Disney World.

“You left it with Coach Hedge,” Nico answers for him. “We all did.”

“That’s the last time I sleep without a sword,” Jason mutters. He stares at the sword carefully and slings it over his back.

“That might be the last time you hold a sword,” Nico points out.

At those words, Jason pauses. He curls his hand around the hilt of the blade, thumbing the pommel gently. Human Jason Grace, retired at age sixteen.

“Camp Halfblood’s best swordsman,” Bianca calls from Mrs. O’Leary’s mount, “retiring his sword?” She stares at him with confusion.

“Jason knows how to use a sword?” Piper’s own confusion is for an entirely different reason. “I thought you were a healer.”

“A healer?” Bianca echoes—and she stares at Piper as though the daughter of Aphrodite had grown a second head.

The corner of Jason’s lips etches into a nervous smile. He pulls his hand away from the hilt of his word. “Some stuff changed while you were away, Bianca.”

Her eyes fall back to him, looking lost. She touches the back of Mrs. O’Leary’s head, her expression morphing, perplexed. “Apparently.”

Uncle Gleeson sidles up next, with a huge bag of trademarked souvenirs. Jason sees at least two lightsabers, a few Disney princesses, and a Mickey Mouse hat with the name _Chuck_ sewn into the hem. A pink one rests in his hands for Mellie.

“Coach,” Nico starts. He stares at the satyr in disbelief. “When did you find time to go shopping?”

“When the rest of the you got lost in your teen soap opera,” Uncle Gleeson berates, and he rolls his eyes animatedly. He greets Mrs. O’Leary amiably and climbs the hellhound until he’s settled in front of Bianca. “I’m not a fan of those. Not enough violence.”

She stares down Jason with a newfound amusement, while Nico looks to the son of Hades with defeat.

“Looks like there’s not much room left,” Jason notes. There’s an array of demigods that follow after Piper and Bianca—who are either mounted on Mrs. O’Leary’s back or closely tucked to the Athena Parthenos. The Goddess of Wisdom looks like she’s the charioteer to a giant dog. Jason raises his gaze to Nico and sees the other demigod assessing the same problem.

“Jason and I will see you on the other side,” Nico says. He reaches for Jason’s hand without warning, and Jason feels the same callouses from before. Same hazy fingers, same blue eyes.

Bianca’s eyebrows knit together. She looks like she wants to say something—but doesn’t. Her eyes fall to Jason, and his chest aches, unsure of what to say.

Piper interjects. “On the other side then, Nico.”

A giant arrow splits through the air, hitting Mrs. O’Leary square in the face. 

“Watch out!” Jason grabs Nico for cover.

“ _ARRRRRF_!” A highpitched cry breaks through the air from the back of her throat, and Mrs. O’Leary bucks and shakes her head violently in pain. The demigods on her back all grip her back, a wave of screams following like the plunge of a roller coaster. 

“ _No_!” Bianca shouts, and she holds onto Mrs. O’Leary’s scruff. “Calm down, girl—!”

“You okay?” Jason asks, his arm tight around Nico.

“Who shot that?” Nico cries—

“Daughter of Zeus.” A chuckle erupts from behind them. Wolves growl off in the distance, and Orion stares back at them with mismatched eyes. “You won’t escape so easily a second time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more chapters left for this one, guys! Thank you so much for reading so far, it's been a fun adventure! Please stay tuned to find out what happens to our boys. There will be a sequel after this story to explore their antics post-war, so I hope you keep reading! :)


	16. in life & death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico yanks at Jason’s hand and turns back to the immaculate altar. The white steps and baby blue walls flicker under the lightning of his rage. _“Juno!”_
> 
> The storm outside ceases—shrouding the chapel in an eerie limbo.
> 
> Then—one-by-one, each chandelier catches light, like the petals of a lotus blooming across the expanse of the white ceiling and walls. The Wedding Pavilion radiates up with a warmth brighter than any storm that Nico has ever summoned—and the largest light fixture snaps awake at the center of the room.
> 
> The Queen of the Heavens appears.

The one thing Nico can count on at this point is disaster.

Mrs. O’Leary thrashes in pain, with a six-foot arrow lodged well into her snout. She shakes her head, desperate to rid herself of the injury while the rest of Nico’s Legion clings onto her fur. Meanwhile, her shouts of are decorated with Orion’s laughter and the snarls of his wolves.

“You think you’re smart enough to escape _me_ , little girl?” Orion smirks—and his red eyes flicker inhumanely, pointing in opposite directions while dried ichor cakes the corners of his eyes. His leather jerkin is stained with so much blood that Nico is sickened by the scent. “I’ve been doing this for _millennia._ Your scent is too _thick_ to lose so easily.”

“Mrs. O’Leary—stop, girl—!” Bianca reaches out to soothe the hellhound—but she winces, as her injured shoulder is aggravated beneath Mrs. O’Leary’s panicked movements.

Orion jabs a finger in their general direction but fails to single Bianca out.

“Take her down!” he shouts—and his wolves launch themselves.

Nico boils over with rage. “Do you trust me?”

Jason’s grip is tight on him all over again, fingers pressed so firmly against Nico’s skin that Nico’s sure it’ll leave a mark. He frowns at the giant in front of him, and Nico grimaces, remembering just how the last fight with Orion ended.

“Jason,” Nico calls.

Finally, Jason looks down, but one hand is curled around the hilt of his sword. “Yeah, but why?”

Nico leaps through the air and curls a hand over Bianca’s quiver of arrows. She turns around, confused—

“Nico—”

“Get to Camp Halfblood,” Nico orders—and her eyes widen as she registers his words. “Gaea is more important. Orion is a _nuisance_ at best _._ ”

“You heard the boy!” Coach Hedge declares. He waves a lightsaber around. “No more delays! Let’s get home, girl!”

Bianca yanks at her quiver. “And what do you think you’re doing with my _bow_ and _arrow_?”

“Buying you time,” Nico retorts—and Jason and he share a glance. “We’ll catch up—I have an idea.”

He expects to slide off of Mrs. O’Leary’s back without little protest—but he should remember that Bianca has never made life _easy._ She yanks the strap of her quiver, irritating her wound in the process—and gets into his face. _“No._ I’m not losing you a second time!”

Nico stares back at her, startled, but quickly forces himself to recover. “This isn’t the time! I’m the _commanding officer_ and I’m not letting anymore of my family get wasted away by Gaea’s lackeys!”

“You were my brother before you were an _officer_. I’m not leaving you,” Bianca declares, and Nico does his best not to let his eyes roll to the back of his head.

They stare at each other in a stalemate, Nico’s grip tight around the quiver and Bianca’s fingers curled firmly at her side.

“Um,” Jason calls, as the wolves come closer. “Guys?”

“ _Why_ ,” Nico demands, “are you so _stubborn—”_

“You want to talk about _stubborn_?” Bianca retorts.

“Hey! _Zip it._ ” Piper wedges herself between the di Angelo siblings. The butterflies blur Nico’s mind momentarily, and he watches as Bianca is beguiled altogether, hand flying to her mouth to keep it shut. She glances over to Nico. “Nico, I’ve got this.”

Nico stares at her in surprise. “You sure?”

Dakota salutes him and claps a hand on Piper’s shoulder. “See you on the other side, Praetor di Angelo!”

If there was more time, Nico thinks he’d hug them. Instead, Bianca shoves him off of Mrs. O’Leary as another giant arrow cuts through the sky. “ _LOOK OUT!”_

Nico goes tumbling as Bianca dives. Piper, like her namesake, whistles loudly to focus Mrs. O’Leary—and suddenly she, the Fifth Cohort, and the Athena Parthenos melt into the shadows. The di Angelo siblings scramble to their feet, and Nico’s hand falls to the eagle staff at his hip while the other reaches for his gladius.

He catches Jason’s eye in the corner of his own vision, armed with a sword in hand.

“Nothing crazy, Jason,” Nico says sharply—and the son of Hades rubs his forehead.

  
“I don’t know how many more of those I have in me,” Jason admits—which is a change from his usual, _I’m fine_. Nico hasn’t found the end point of Jason’s battery yet—but he thinks they’re closer to _gone_ than they are fully charged.

“What’s the plan, Nico?” Bianca asks—and she nocks an arrow against her bow.

Orion’s lips twist into a menacing smirk.

“The Athena Parthenos is gone, Orion,” Nico taunts. “And you’re not leaving this theme park.”

In the happiest place on earth, Orion laughs with glee. He’s more powerful than Bryce as a giant—but just as annoying. “As far as I’m concerned, the head of the daughter of Zeus over there is prize enough.”

A crackle of electricity ripples through the string of Bianca’s bow—but it’s faint. She’s tired and holding her bow stiffly. “I told you—I don’t go by that anymore.”

They’re all tired.

“Honey,” Orion chastises—which makes Nico’s skin crawl. “The men are talking.”

“What’s your endgame here?” Jason asks, quick to jump to Bianca’s defense. “Gaea’s defenses are dwindling. The moment that statue makes it to Camp Halfblood, the Romans and Greeks will be at peace. This war won’t end in her favor.”

Orion smiles darkly. “You think it’s that easy, boy? That one gesture will wipe away centuries of feuding? History is _stained_ with mistakes. One small gesture of kindness isn’t going to give you a clean slate. You know something about that, don’t you son of Hades?”

The air grows stale around Jason. From the corner of his eye, Nico can see the other demigod frowning. Nico opens his mouth, ready to give the Hunter Giant a tongue lashing—but Jason beats him to it.

“Sometimes you don’t need a clean slate. You just need to move forward,” Jason says. “You don’t need to do this, Orion. There can be good giants and bad giants. You didn’t want to fight back then—you just wanted to aid Artemis in her hunt.”

Nico keeps his eyes fixated on Orion—to the haphazard reapplication of his red eyes, to his disheveled appearance. He boils with rage as he thinks about what state they left the distribution center in.

And he _hopes_ Hylla is okay. Piper had charmspeak and a knife. Hylla has an army.

“You think that’s so easy, after having my name besmirched by those godforsaken twins?” Orion sneers. “Until the day I can choke Artemis with my bare hands, I’ll destroy _everything_ that she cares about. I’ll slaughter _every_ woman who thought themselves better without a man.”

Gods. What a fuckboy.

“And,” Orion continues. He nocks an arrow and aims it square at Bianca’s chest, “I’ll start with her most powerful huntress. _You_ , Daughter of Zeus!”

The arrow flies.

Jason makes a sound. “Nico—”

Nico wills it away with a gust of wind, and the wolves attack.

He launches himself into the air as both Bianca and Jason register his words. Nico propels himself over an unflinching Orion’s head, yards away with the eagle staff crackling between his fingers. As Orion readies himself with another arrow, Nico opens his mouth—

“Orion!” he shouts, matching his sister’s pitch, “I _dare_ you to come for my head!”

Bianca makes an indignant sound. Nico’s impersonation disarms Jason, who stares up at him quizzically.

“I don’t sound like—”

“ _What_?” Orion, blurry of sight, cries. He turns his head in Nico’s direction, body positioned perfectly in front of Nico and arrow aimed for his head. “Don’t fool me, girl!”

Bianca finally catches onto his plan. “You call yourself a tracker? Looks like your dogs are doing all of the work!”

Orion darts around blindly. His arrow goes flying in a blind direction and he growls angrily. “ _Where are you?!”_

Nico grins. “Catch me—”

“—if you can!” Bianca finishes.

The last thing Nico sees is Jason melting into the shadows before he starts flying away from the Relaxation Station. Nico goes south, and Bianca goes west. Orion throws a tantrum and slams his foot into the ground.

“ _AFTER THEM!”_ he commands, and the wolves split into two paths, charging after two children of the King of Olympus. Nico catches a glimpse of one wolf remaining behind as a seeing-eye dog at the end of a really long metal chain.

Mist slowly gathers across the surface of Disney World, coating last night’s property damage as mortals filter into the park. Orion’s wolves hop and skip over the humans—who either scream or are none the wiser. Nico hasn’t the slightest idea what they’re seeing—but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was related to an escape from the Animal Kingdom.

He flies over the statue of Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse holding hands and lands in Main Street USA, pushing through a mass of people as they walk past him. Occasionally, he hears the voices of little kids pointing to him and going, _“What superhero is that?!”_

The tired kind. Nico clutches the eagle close to him, and inhales slowly. The sky darkens, and a soft rumble thrums through the entrance of Disney World. The Magic Kingdom illuminates in the background, none the wiser of the battles that have been fought.

“Was it supposed to rain today?” Someone asks curiously.

“Pluto!” a little kid squeals, as one of the wolves trudges forward, nose to the ground.

“Baby, I think he’s feral—”

Nico causes a downpour. The pain pricks up his fingers, but it’s soothed with the assistance of the Fifth Cohort eagle. He doesn’t understand _why_ that works. When Frank, Annabeth, and Percy had brought it back from Alaska, the staff felt insignificant compared to preparing for a war. Maybe it amplified his powers the way Diocletian’s Scepter did for Jason. All that mattered now was getting out of here in one piece.

He thanks the Fifth Cohort—and all of the legionnaires who defaulted to his side instead of Octavian’s. Nico just hopes he lives long enough to thank them in person.

As the rain falls more violently, Disney World’s guests depart to safety while the wolf tries to hone in on Nico’s scent.

Nico slips into a narrow alleyway to hide himself. Jason taps him on the shoulder.

“Nico—”

“ _Jason_ ,” Nico hisses—and he turns with his sword in hand, startled.

Jason stares back, puzzled. “Sorry—”

“It’s fine.” Nico stares at the other demigod inquisitively and shakes his head. “How did you find me?”

There’s a moment of hesitation, before Jason points to Nico’s silhouette. Nico’s shadow. “I forgot you didn’t like that.”

Nico stares back at the other demigod, racking his brain to figure out when he announced that he didn’t like Jason’s shadowtraveling. Way back when they were still getting to know each other. He doesn’t know how he would’ve survived on this quest _without_ Jason.

“How did you find me in Puerto Rico?” Nico finds himself asking.

This time, Jason points to Nico’s chest—straight at Nico’s heart. “I can sense souls. I’ve got a good idea of what yours is supposed to feel like. Staticky.”

Nico stares at the other demigod, unsure of what to say. Unsure of how red his face is. “Can Thalia do that?”

“Maybe, by now.” Jason shrugs—a subtle jerk of his shoulders, and Nico watches as the other demigod suddenly burns bashfully. “It’s…part of my creepy skillset.”

The _last_ thing Nico needs is for Jason to feel self-conscious. “You’re not creepy. Can you relay a message to Bianca?”

The way Jason nods, Nico thinks he understands why the son of Hades apologized for a _habit_ all of those months ago. He announced his rank as commanding officer for his cohort, but Bianca and Jason have also worked in tandem for years.

Jason has the frame of an alert soldier. Someone who knew battle before he knew how to talk—and carried on with that for the last sixteen years. He stares at Nico now, defaulting to the latter demigod with a solid faith that unearths Nico. It’s different from the back and forth because of Bram Castle—and Nico plans to keep his feet firmly planted to the ground.

“Plan?” Jason asks.

“Plan,” Nico reassures.

They wait until the wolf passes by their alleyway. Nico takes Jason by the hand and drags him to the nearest map. It doesn’t take long to find what Nico’s looking for.

“We want to lead Orion here,” Nico explains, when Jason’s eyebrows mesh with confusion. “It’s our best shot.”

“Okay,” Jason agrees without hesitation. “Hey—stay safe.”

“You too,” Nico agrees. They lock eyes one last time—then Jason falls back into his shadow.

He sees Orion skulking towards the entrance, grumbling loudly under his breath. “ _First blindness, now rain?!”_

Hand on the pollum, Nico unsheathes his sword, and the sound makes the wolves cock their heads.

“Orion!” Nico says in his best Bianca impersonation. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten bored of me already!”

“ _Daughter of Zeus!_ ” Orion snarls—and he shoots an arrow in Nico’s direction before the demigod can blink.

The arrow is quick, but Nico twists out of the way. He exhales—and despite the exhaustion, Nico is in his element for the first time since they left the Argo II.

“That all you got, Orion?” Bianca—the _real_ Bianca—calls from somewhere else. Orion whips his head around, and Nico catches a glimpse of Jason melting into the shadows once again from the top of a gift shop.

“ _WHERE ARE YOU?!”_ Orion cries—and like any undeserving man, fails in his inquiry.

“Over here!” Nico shouts.

“No,” Bianca protests. “Over here!”

They both soar, while Orion growls into oblivion. A storm of arrows shoots across the rain, and Nico charges through the air with the winds bristling behind him. He whips past the ticket booth, where some mom with a choppy haircut is complaining about the unplanned rain, and a gust picks up behind him.

He finds Jason waiting at the monorail, sword in hand. Nico lands to the ground, and they start running.

“How’d you get so good at your Bianca impression?” Jason suddenly asks.

Nico’s cheeks flush pink. “Once upon a time my favorite game was just annoying her.”

He doesn’t miss the way Jason’s lips stretch into a mirthful smile.

They make it past the monorail, with Orion trying to match pace with his seeing-eye wolf. The giant collides into a crowd of people who complain about an earthquake, and then charge across the cement floor, growls snapping in the dark.

Nico and Jason stop short of a sign that reads _Seven Seas Lagoon._ A ferryboat wades through the lake, and Nico can hear them apologizing profusely about the storm.

Bianca lands right beside them. “Where?”

Nico points to a building just south of them, and his sister shakes his head in confusion.

“You,” Bianca reminisces, “and your hare-brained schemes—”

“I wouldn’t _need_ a hare-brained scheme if someone didn’t _gladly welcome Orion’s trysts_ ,” Nico retorts, throwing his Bianca impression back at his sister. Bianca shrinks, again disarmed at the pitch of his voice, and she jabs a finger at him. 

“You’d be good at it too if Jace was _your_ best friend,” she rants, and she gestures to the son of Hades.

“Is welcoming danger supposed to be a good thing?” Nico snaps.

“Um. Guys?” Jason wedges himself between the two of them, his demeanor twisting with a discomfort that makes Nico flush. “Maybe another time?”

Jason takes an extra minute to study Nico, and the latter demigod knows it has everything to do with their last conversation. Nico’s demeanor twitches into a grimace—but he doesn’t have a chance to explain himself. Not with Orion lapping towards them with a pack of wolves.

“Over the lake,” Nico orders, and he tugs at Jason’s left hand—when Bianca yanks at Jason’s right.

Jason yelps—and Bianca and Nico share an irritated look.

“You think a few raindrops is going to stop me?!” Orion shouts—and he trudges towards them at top speed.

“Together,” Bianca says—and her voice is firm as she looks at Nico from the other side of the son of Hades. She stares at Nico and nothing else, her expression firm.

It hackles at Nico’s chest. His legion tattoo tingles beneath her gaze, and he nods firmly. “Together.”

They prop Jason on both their shoulders and fly across the Seven Seas Lagoon. Two ferryboats cross the mist-covered lake, entranced by a strange flying “bird”—and they listen to Orion yelp as the giant drops face-first into the lagoon.

Disney’s Wedding Pavilion comes into view, with pristine white walls and baby blue porticos. They land at the foot of a building—and more wolves stop them at the entryway.

“We’re stuck,” Bianca says—and she readies herself with her bow and arrow.

The water splashes behind them, and Orion clamors from the lagoon, beads of lake water rippling off of his jerkin. He stares at them with glowing red eyes and hair smoothed over his scalp. A silky chuckle flutters from his lips.

“A wedding chapel, daughter of Zeus?” He muses. “Will you do what your lady won’t?”

“Over my dead body,” Bianca snaps.

“I’ve got the wolves,” Jason declares, and his sword is drawn. Despite the golden sheen to his gladius, it dims beneath the grip of the son of Hades. Skeleton soldiers erupt from the sand bed, dressed in tattered wedding dresses and tuxedos. His gaze narrow, the hue of his irises dark.

“Nothing crazy,” Nico reiterates—and Jason nods.

Bianca’s arrows go flying. They pierce the first wolf—and provoke the other canines. Jason guides them towards himself—and all the while, Bianca reaches out to grab Nico by the arm.

“I’m almost out of arrows,” she warns.

“Orion!” Nico calls again, pitching his voice. “Are you man enough to face me?”

Orion snaps to attention at his voice—and an arrow goes flying before Nico can blink. It shatters a window from the chapel behind him. “I’ll show you _manly!”_

Nico yanks at his sister’s arm, and they stumble as they fly through the broken entrance. Orion shoots another arrow towards them. It grazes Nico in the heel—“ _Ack_!—and he tumbles into a landing, nearly smashing into a wall while Bianca scrapes over a pew.

The inside of the pavilion is white and sleek with marble pillars, reminding Nico of the temples back in New Rome. He scrambles to his feet as the building rumbles—from wolves thrashing into exterior walls to the storm raging above them. A loud _CRAAAAACK_ streaks through the sky, and the Eagle staff is warm at his hip.

“C’mon,” Nico orders, and he reaches for his sister’s hand. She grimaces, the blood rich at her shoulder. “We need to get to the altar.”

What was once a prestigious wedding chapel now flickers in the darkness with the storm. Immaculate pews lay uneven with the sudden invasion of two demigods.

“Nico,” Bianca says out of nowhere, “I’m sorry!”

A cold chill runs up Nico’s spine, and his grip tightens around his sister’s hand. “You want to have this conversation _now_?”

“We can’t talk about this later,” Bianca snaps back—but her vigor is lackluster. It’s not heated, like their bickering. The quarrelling makes Nico feel ten again, staring up at his big sister and skipping over every other word. The problem is the same—she just doesn’t _listen_ to him—but being ten and twelve isn’t a good fit now. They’re older, staring at each other at each other with the same stubborn vivacity—

—and talking to each other, like neither one of them has grown up.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” Bianca continues, and her eyes are as glassy as the rain pelting the pavilion windows. “I—I lost you back at the Casino. That’s _my_ fault—and we’re never going to get that back. Our _lives_ back. I’m sorry I’m _leaving_ again, but I can’t just—I can’t move on without you. I’ve _never_ been able to move on without you.”

Nico stares at her, unsure of what to say. The doors of the chapel rattle.

“This isn’t how I wanted our reunion to go,” Bianca continues, her voice tight. “One apology won’t wipe my slate clean either, but—but I don’t want your last memory of me to be _leaving_ again, I just—I needed to see you. I do what I want, I know that—I’m no better than Dad in that regard—but you’re my _brother_ , Nico—I _never_ should’ve let you go.”

_CRAAASH_

Glass flies everywhere as Orion slams the butt of his hunting knife into the window. Nico’s instincts kick in—but Bianca is faster, creating a dome of air around them. Glass whistles in the opposite direction. The Hunter Giant appears at the other end of the aisle, his robotic eyes rotating, and leers. “Shows how smart you are _, girl._ You think you think you can get away from me?”

Nico stands quickly to his feet and shoots a ribbon of lightning Orion. The Hunter Giant makes a tiny hop, his feet flying upward from the ground, and sneers.

“Orion,” Nico snaps. “You were made to oppose the Twin Archers. How about two di Angelos instead?”

_“Gladly_!” Orion spits two arrows from his bow and they narrowly miss.

Bianca lunges to the other side of the wedding pavilion. “Looks like you’re not as good as you think you are!”

Again, the blind giant turns his head quizzically and growls this time with frustration. “ _Stop that!_ ”

Jason launches himself from behind, pulling the giant into a headlock while Orion thrashes about. The son of Hades waves around like a cape to his back, while Orion lets out an obnoxious cry.

_“GET OFF_!” Orion demands, and his hand flies to Jason’s bind. He reaches for his hunting knife and jabs it repeatedly into the son of Hades’s head. It dents with each impact—but then Orion yanks Jason by the leg and throws him like a dart into a collection of pews.

“Jason!” Nico shouts—and he sprints towards the son of Hades, who holds his head numbly. “To the altar!”

Luckily, Jason doesn’t hesitate the same way Bianca does. He registers Nico at the edge of the aisle, while Bianca assails Orion with a flurry of lightning arrows.

“Your enemy is _me_ ,” Bianca states, her voice dripping with venom.

Jason latches onto Nico’s hand, and they surf through the shadows until they reach the end of the aisle.

Orion waves his hands about—but with a big whiff, he yanks Bianca out of the air when she’s at her last arrow. He slams her into the ground, and a sickening chuckle erupts from the back of his throat. “This is quite the game of cat and mouse you’re leading me on, sweetheart. But that’s enough out of you.”

Bianca shrieks as Orion drives a knife into her shoulder. It’s the _worst_ sound that Nico’s ever heard.

“ _Bianca!_ ” His blood coils, and his palms burns with rage—stirring the storm outside. The winds howl, and Nico can feel it peeling against the blue porticos. His hand reaches for the eagle staff, ready to kill _anyone_ who would _dare_ hurt his sister.

“No—” Jason _fumes_ with rage, and the air is cold and stale again. It snaps Nico out of it. 

Nico yanks at Jason’s hand and turns back to the immaculate altar. The white steps and baby blue walls flicker under the lightning of his rage. “ _Juno!”_

The storm outside ceases—shrouding the chapel in an eerie limbo.

Then—one-by-one, each chandelier catches light, like the petals of a lotus blooming across the expanse of the white ceiling and walls. The Wedding Pavilion radiates up with a warmth brighter than any storm that Nico has ever summoned—and the largest light fixture snaps awake at the center of the room.

The Queen of the Heavens appears.

Juno, in her vibrant blue gown and cloak of peacock feathers. Her makeup is faultless like every bride, with a golden diadem woven at the crown of her head. She stands regally at the foot of the altar, her demeanor cold but beautiful, and her earthy brown eyes show the depth of her rule.

She looks around the room, nonplussed as Nico has ever seen her in the last five years—and stares down at the intertwined hands between Jason and Nico.

“Am I here to bless a union?” she asks, her voice eloquent.

Nico stares at her, and every word dissolve from the back of his throat.

Her eyes radiate with… _something_. Something that had been forcibly muted after her time with Maria di Angelo.

“ _Nico_!” Bianca wheezes from beneath the large chandelier. She takes the opportunity reach out with her spare hand—and electrocutes Orion, metal eyeball first.

_“GAH!”_ Orion has slipped—blinded once again by an external force—and he reels back with a large vein throbbing at the back of his neck.

“Queen Hera,” Jason interjects—and Juno suddenly diminishes, her gown blanching white and her peacock feathered cloak fading into goatskin. “Please—we needed your help. A giant can only be defeated by a god and demigod working together!”

Hera’s attention snaps back to him, one blasé eyebrow arched in the air. “And why, pray tell, would I listen to you, son of Hades?”

Nico snaps out of his stupor as he suddenly remembers _why_ he never bothered with Juno’s help. She holds the same regal expression as her husband in every realm that doesn’t interest her—but he refuses to be forced out of her orbit. Not again.

“Because she’s your daughter,” Nico snaps—unable to voice any air of formality. Not now. “Because we’re only _in_ this war because you swapped Reyna and Annabeth. You wanted your family reunited, so here we are now. _Do_ something about it, Mammina!”

Her expression withers into surprise—and she looks at him for the first time, uncensored from her husband’s doing.

“Come back here!” Orion orders, while Bianca is scrambling to retrieve one of her arrows from the ground. Her shoulder is bloodied, red drenching the full sleeve of her dress, while her bow trembles in her hands. Orion lifts his dented hunting knife again—

—and Jason appears from the shadows, gladius in hand. He blocks the blow, but the strength of Orion’s swipe forces him to his knees.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jason protests, his voice strained. “You don’t need to be defined by how Gaea made you, Orion—you can choose your own path!”

Orion balks with ridicule, and he withdraws his knife. “You think I’m doing this because _Mommy_ told me how to act? No, son of Hades—”

He swipes, driving his knife leftward—and not even Jason is swift enough to block it. Orion picks Jason up by the collar of his shirt.

“I kill, _for me_ ,” Orion hisses. “I hunt, for **_me._** If the world can’t change for **me** , then I’ll make a world where Artemis **_knows her place._** ”

The Hunter Giant launches Jason through the roof. He turns his attention Bianca, who’s scrambling to nock an arrow with trembling hands.

“You want to die in her place, _Angel_?” Orion barks, and his remaining red eye smokes and whirs as it narrows at her. He smiles cruelly. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard in the last century. And by far my favorite.”

Nico can’t keep his anger contained.

“Forget it,” Nico dismisses, “this was a bad idea.”

He runs with the Fifth Cohort’s eagle staff and blasts Orion with a violent gust of wind from behind.

_“GRAH!”_

“You picked a fight with the wrong big sister!” Nico yells angrily. He launches himself onto Orion’s shoulders and digs the length of his staff into the giant’s throat. 

“ _Nico_ ,” Bianca hisses. “Get to safety!”

The blood smears her hand while Orion tries to reorient himself—and Nico _fumes._

Wind howls violently from outside, shattering the windows around them. The sky darkens with giant nimbus clouds, and thunder rumbles again, above the glowing eyes of the Fifth Cohort staff. The portico tiles have long lifted from the rooftop—and Nico prays for the biggest blade of lightning that the staff can summon.

Orion yanks the staff from Nico’s hand, grabs him from above—and throws Nico straight into his sister. She catches him, but Nico doesn’t miss her shudder as the pain courses through the rest of her.

“ _Now_ ,” Orion sneers, “I have _both_ of you.”

He reaches for another hunting knife at his hip—

And Hera tuts behind him.

Three sharp clicks of her tongue that echo through the wedding chapel in a louder cadence than any crackle of thunder. “This won’t do.”

Orion suddenly glows with a soft light beneath the chandeliers—and he’s suspended from animation. “ _WHA—?”_

“You come into _my_ place of worship,” Hera says suddenly, her voice oozing with saccharine, “in _that_ state of dress, Hunter?”

A chill shoots through the back of Nico’s spine. He looks at a glassy-eyed Bianca, reflecting the same sense of bewilderment in her own tired demeanor. Nico’s grip is tight around his sister, his hand stained in her blood as she supports him—and they cock their heads back to Orion’s fitful scream.

“ _Why can’t I move?!”_ Orion roars, his single remaining eye rotating in a vicious axle in its socket.

Hera fixes that problem for him. She waves a hand, and his forgotten eye rams straight into his face with a sickening _POP!_

Orion shouts in pain. 

“A houseguest should always look their host in the eye, Hunter,” Hera starts, her voice no louder than giving a child a mild scolding. “Good posture is everything—lest you want to develop back problems in a century or two, young man—”

She waves her hand, and Orion’s entire body suddenly straightens like a plank. He hisses.

“—and to show up, **_a mess_** , with your hair so unkempt—”

An invisible hand _yanks_ at the locks atop Orion’s head.

“—jerkin untucked, face unclean, talking like a _vagrant—”_

Orion lunges towards her with no avail. “Will you _stop—”_

“You don’t interrupt the matriarch of the house when she speaks,” Hera say simply—in a voice that Nico _is_ familiar with. One he’s heard from Bianca so many times that he’d learned to close his ears—and what he’s practiced on Percy more than he can count. “But, most _importantly_ —”

Nico blinks—and suddenly, he finds himself at his feet, sidled beside the Queen of the Gods with her hand knotted tightly at his shoulder, and the other at Bianca’s back. Bianca whimpers as pain shoots up her arm, and she’s pulled in closely.

Queen Hera glimmers, and for a moment, the goatskin on her shoulders billow into a cape of peacock feathers. Her makeup is still immaculate, the diadem in her ebony hair showing only half her radiance—but the white of her dress flickers with a blue more vibrant than the sky, rippling between the two colors as she shifts between her Greek and Roman form until she settles at a happy medium—

\--because she’s always been their _mammina_ first, and the Queen of the Gods second.

“—my children know better than to let you _leave_ ,” she says, “without saying goodbye.”

A familiar warm fills Nico’s chest, swelling beneath his ribcage. His nostrils fill with the familiar scent of pomegranate seeds and coffee— _tiramisu_ —like every anniversary when he was little. The anniversary of when Mama and Mammina first met.

She holds him close to her nape, like he’s still a small child.

“Careful, _passerotto_ ,” Mammina whispers in his ear with a sweet trill, “you know I never want to see you get hurt.”

Nico chokes on a sob. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Orion is too blurry to see in front of him—and he watches, as Bianca shakes across from him.

“Now, _stellina_ ,” Hera continues, leaning close to her other child. She lets go of Nico for a moment, but the warmth remains. Juno’s staff appears, dressed accordingly with a perfect lotus—and it shrinks into a mortal-sized arrow. “Posture straight. Loosen your diaphragm. Just like when you used to sing! Nico, your sister is injured—help her fire this arrow!”

Nico obliges without protest. He falls in step with Bianca—and not for the first time, catching himself staring at his sister. At her silky hair that’s grown long since the casino, and the weathered look in her eyes—from storms of war, of prophecy, and loss. They stare at each other with the eyes inherited from Jupiter—but stand together, with a strength gained from their mothers.

“Hi,” Nico says, his voice barely above a whisper—and Bianca smiles at him, with all the grace she struggled to find as a child. His hand finds her bow—and this time, Bianca doesn’t protest.

“Hi,” she replies.

Mammina places a hand on either of their shoulders. “Everyone say, _Addio_ , _Orion_.”

_“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”_ Orion barks. He looks around, his eyes still not quite focused, and wheezes under his straightened jerkin. “You think this will hold me?! I’ve hunted Artemis before, I’ll hunt again—I’ll hunt _all_ of you—”

“Aim for the chest, my little sparrow,” Mammina advises.

Nico nocks the arrow and Bianca guides his arm. With one quick _FLIT,_ the lotus arrow spirals through the sky and _pierces_ Orion.

He screams—and finally, disintegrates into nothing.

*

Jason finds them with the storm clears. Hera is fussing, rearranging the pews as she sees fit and sweeping away debris. It doesn’t fix the broken windows or roof—but it’s a start.

“Honestly,” she scolds, “such a beautiful chapel to get married in and he has the _gall_ to destroy it. Someone’s mother didn’t teach him any manners.”

“His mother’s trying to take over the world,” Nico mutters under his breath. He sits at a fixed pew with Bianca, clumsily fiddling with a First Aid kit. “That’s about as rude as you can get, Mammina.”

_“Nico_ ,” Bianca scolds—but not nearly to the degree of their godly mother. She’s smiling despite her arm wound.

Jason’s eyes survey the half-destroyed chapel before he puts his gladius down. His shirt is askew, having come untucked from his slacks, and rubble decorates his hair. He’s missing a shoe—otherwise there isn’t a scratch on him. Hera doesn’t say a thing. “You didn’t need me?”

“We played to our strengths,” Nico reassures—and he gestures to the Queen of the Gods.

Jason stares onward to the misshapen room—a mixture of amusement and exhaustion stretched across his face. “Here, let me help.”

He gives Nico a quick onceover—then he sets his sights on Bianca. Nico hears bits and pieces of a conversation as he slinks back into the aisle, sore, but mostly okay.  
  


(“So you’re seriously a healer now?”

“Um. Yeah, long story.” )

Nico clamors up to Hera and overhears her conversation with herself. “…this place is a _mess_ , so disrespectful—”

He clears his throat, and Hera turns around. She casts a glance at Nico, and his heart bristles at the sight of her. Again, Nico finds himself unsure of what to say—but when she looks to him this time, there isn’t a muted uneasiness.

Nico takes in the sight of his godly parent, knowing he was once carried close to her nape. His hands twitch at his sides, and if he closes his eyes, he can almost smell his favorite bakery in the distance.

“Yes?” Hera asks.

“I…” He doesn’t know what to say. For all the energy he had as a small child, spinning around like a biplane, Nico is frozen now. As he looks up to her face, he expects to be reprimanded. Nico doesn’t think he looks much better than Orion after weeks of travel. His hair is a mess. He walks with a limp. Nico doesn’t feel as he did before, overwhelmed with the responsibility of leadership—but he doesn’t feel quite centered, either.

Her face is soft for him. She stares at Nico with the same demure that Bianca has held since their reunion—and he knows why.

“Speak up, my sweet,” Mammina says, with no utterance of annoyance. Bianca may’ve perfected her maternal propensity, but no one could mimic the affection Hera had for her children. It wasn’t something to be mimicked.

“I must have walked by your temple at least a thousand times since Thalia brought me to New Rome,” Nico says finally, and his arm tingles.

He brushes his hand against his legion tattoo, the pads of his fingers curling against his scarred eagle. Nico thinks of every time he clamored to the top of the Jupiter Optimus Maximus to sleep beneath the sun. Every time he scowled or grimaced, and wished for reprieve from the many New Romans that _worshipped_ Jupiter and overlooked the other gods.

Mammina, included.

Nico, included.

“You have,” Hera confirms, her voice light.

“So—” Nico struggles with his words. “So why not stop me? Why…why let him claim me? Everything that I’ve _ever_ done, going on quests, slaying Krios—”

“You’ve done for family,” she finishes for him, and a lump swells in his throat. She bends to his level, and Nico truly feels like a child as she stares at him with a mother’s love. _The_ mother’s love. “Oh, my sweet little sparrow—you’ve honored me in so many ways without ever having to utter my name.”

Nico’s cheeks flourish, dumbfounded. He swallows hard and nudges his head in Bianca’s direction. “But Bianca knew. You told her. Why treat us differently?”

“It wasn’t a gamble that ended in my favor the first time.” Hera’s expression darkens. “Your sister could do nothing but mourn because she loved her family so dearly. But you, my sweet. You found a new family all on your own—and I’m proud you’ve poured their weight in every decision you’ve made thus far.”

Nico stares at her, at a loss—but he thinks he understands. He dropped praetorship in New Rome the moment he found out Thalia and Reyna fell into Tartarus—and spent every day racking his brain wondering if that was the right decision.

“You’d,” Nico starts, “rather I forget you, than claim me as your own?”

“I’d rather you stay alive, even if the world thinks you aren’t mine.” Hera smiles gently at him in a way Nico never expected from a godly parent. Her expression is solemn as she glances at Bianca—and Nico’s chest aches, as he follows her gaze. “Now—you must get going. Family awaits you at Camp Halfblood.”

Nico cocks his head back to the Queen of the Gods. Mammina. “Reyna, Thalia, and Percy made it to Camp Halfblood?”

The edge of Juno’s lips etches into a graceful smile. “You’ve done well getting the Athena Parthenos home, passerotto.”

Red dusts across Nico’s cheekbones in an even darker shade. He wants to argue the opposite—that getting the Athena Parthenos home involved a lot of long and winding detours that included snow and the Eiffel Tower—but she stares onward at him, proud, nonetheless. The compliment alone feels more genuine than Jupiter’s offer of immortality.

He hesitates, then follows her gaze back to Bianca, who sits in quiet conversation with Jason. 

“What about my family here?” Nico asks quietly, and his hands curl into fists at his sides, nervous to meet Hera’s eye.

A brush of her hand against his shoulder is all it takes for him to want to fall in her arms like when he was little.

“If I couldn’t keep either of you close while you were young, the Fates certainly wouldn’t let me do it now, my sweet,” Hera murmurs softly. She smooths the hair at his face. “Just remember: Family is with you in life and in death. And the best thing you can do—”

“Is move forward,” Nico finishes for her, and his hand twitches.

“Make me proud, my sweet,” Hera says, and her eyes glitter in a way that remind Nico so much of his other mother. “Continue to make me proud.”

Nico swallows hard, then nods.

“Now—come close, _stellina!_ ” Hera calls. “Hug your _mammina_ goodbye!”

Bianca stares at their godly parent, puzzled. A thousand questions rest on Nico’s tongue of how _she_ reacted to their mother, but he understands that time has run out to ask. He locks eyes with Jason, who looks onward with worry—but Nico can only shake his head as they gather around the Queen of the Heavens.

Hera tuts at Jason’s appearance. “Such scraggly hair, son of Hades—and so pale—”

“ _Mammina_ ,” Bianca interjects—and the exasperation in her voice shows it’s an aged conversation. “Be nice.”

“A little sun wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Hera grumbles. “Just look at the two of you—and your _beautiful_ skin. You look just like your mother—”

“Mammina,” Nico interjects. “Jason is the only reason I remember at all.”

Hera halts in her rant. She stares warily at Jason, who doesn’t seem to react to her. If anything, Jason remains unsurprised, and Nico can’t help getting annoyed. But—“Very well. We’ll blame your state of dress on more pressing matters. Now—”

She brings both Bianca and Nico close.

“—it’s time to go _home_ , my sweet children.”

*

Nico gets a vision. Shortly after Hera’s last scolding of, _Tell Percy Jackson not to wipe his nose on his shirt!_

He sees himself at the age of two, still trying to get the hang of walking and yet already wanting to fly, as little Bianca giggles between the legs of their kitchen table.

“Tag!” Four-year-old Bianca declares, and she nudges him firmly on the arm before skirting away.

“Tag!” Little Nico echoes to no one but the air. He toddles after her, weaving out of the many legs of the kitchen table and chairs as their baby chatter accentuates the whistle of their tea kettle on the stove. Bianca weaves behind a pair of human legs, giggling, and Little Nico stops short, looking up into the air. “Nonno! Tag!”

Nonno Rafael’s dark mustache accentuates his smile, only second to the kind crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes as he picks up his grandson. He’s a thin man—but what he lacks in frame is made up in his height. “Tag? In the kitchen, passerotto?”

He used to smell like cigars. Nico doesn’t realize how much he missed it until his two-year-old self buries his nose in the collar of his grandfather’s black suit.

“Rafael is right, my sweet,” Juno calls from the kitchen island, dressed in an embroidered blue dress with timeless makeup. “Kids should not play in the kitchen.”

“Sorry, Mammina,” Bianca apologizes softly, straightening behind their grandfather. She smooths her dress out of habit.

Behind her, Nico’s Nonna makes an indignant sound—petite in stature, but sharp in tongue. Her hair is short and cropped, accentuating the round face inherited by Maria di Angelo. “Let them have their fun. Children are meant to play.”

Juno stares at Nonna Laura sternly, but her irritation is muted by her love for Maria di Angelo. “I believe I know what children are _meant_ to do.”

“When’s the last time you birthed one?” Nonna Laura retorts, and Juno withers.

“Outside then, mi amore?” Nonno Rafael suggests, and he reaches to pick up Bianca as well. “Until dinner?”

Nonna Laura offers a pained expression. “Dinner may be delayed since I’m without assistance.”

Juno gives her a withered stare that would make any other mortal cower. “I’m standing right here.”

“And you’re doing nothing,” Nonna Laura retorts. She shares a look with her husband—who smiles without another word.

As a child, Nico sees himself point to the batch of gnocchi splayed across the kitchen counter, propped over his grandfather’s shoulder before loudly declaring, _“Patata_!”

They disappear through the backdoor, neither di Angelo child noticing the rectangular velvet box left behind by their grandfather.

“You’re cutting the pasta too long,” Nico’s grandmother scolds—and Nico would never believe that the Mother Goddess would falter under the matriarch of the di Angelo household. “How do you expect Nico to eat this?”

“With his teeth,” Hera returns tiredly—though she doesn’t argue with Nonna Laura. Instead, her interest piques at the velvet box, and Laura follows her gaze. The latch at the edge of the box is gold, with an ornate design carved into the center. “A gift?”

“An intervention,” Laura corrects—and she works tirelessly to roll out strips of pasta herself to cut into small pieces.

Hera opens the box for only a few moments, her stunning brown eyes taking in the sight—before she snaps it closed, looking more irritated than before, and places it back on the counter. “I can’t accept these.”

“You’re not to accept,” Laura dismisses, “you’re to settle down.”

“I’m devoted to another.”

“Then why are you at my house every night?”

Hera lifts an eyebrow in the air, as Laura harrumphs.

“My darling Maria,” the latter matriarch carries on, cutting gnocchi at a speed unmatched by any of her sisters, “has complied with your wishes. _He_ sired my sweet grandchildren—”

“Because I am the Goddess of _Marriage,_ ” Hera announces, her tone clipped. Nico knows that tone well—he’s used it plenty now, when uncomfortable. “I bare children to no one but my husband.”

“A shame he does not practice the same faith in your marriage,” Laura admonishes. She scoots the velvet box to Hera again, unintimidated by the Queen of the Heavens. “You have my daughter’s heart. My grandchildren call for you lovingly—”

“Because I am theirs,” Hera points out. “And they are mine.”

“—but they have his blood,” Laura says, and she taps her hand impatiently at the velvet box, her hands covered in flour as she does so. It’s not neat or immaculate, like the Mother Goddess, but the warmth of her strength is the same. “A family is not just blood, Queen Hera. But if you have my daughter’s heart, she needs your hand as well. If he has so little authority over these children whom you propositioned, then show how devoted you are to my sweet Maria.”

Hera glares at Laura, but she doesn’t utter a word. Her expression softens—to something Bianca has shown Nico plenty since they left Puerto Rico.

“I cannot,” Hera declares, and Nico’s chest aches at the words. Not because she refused—but because she doesn’t seem happy with her answer, either.

“Mama,” Maria’s voice calls from the foyer. She appears, every bit as mystifying in Nico’s memories as she was in person—poised, but whimsical, as she slinks behind the Mother Goddess. Maria stands to the tips of her toes and kisses the seven-foot-tall goddess at her nape. “Are you threatening my beloved again?”

“Not at all,” Laura dismisses, and she wipes her hands on a kitchen towel. “That would require your _beloved_ to make bold strokes.”

Maria’s rolls her eyes with a sweetness Nico’s younger self knew too well. He used that look often on his big sister.

“So long as the children are happy, then I am happy,” Maria announces, while she swipes a slice of raw pasta to eat herself. “And _nothing_ can take that away from me.”

His two mothers kiss, and it’s the end of their argument.

*

Nico snaps back to attention when they appear at the entrance of Camp Halfblood. He’s only ever been there once—after he stubbornly declared that shadowtravel was weird and didn’t want to do it again. Back then, Thalia had laughed, noticing the fitful way he said the words, and recommended he learned the responsibilities of praetorship from Reyna instead, like a son going between two divorced parents.

Now he has a hand intertwined with Thalia’s little brother.

His heartrate spikes as he looks around—“Bianca?”

“Still here,” she reassures to the left of him, her battered arm placed in a makeshift sling from one of the wedding chapel’s white curtains. Her eyes glow as she looks through the forest of trees. “I haven’t been here since…”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, and his voice is strained.

They exchange looks—and Nico finds himself wondering what he missed when he went to catch up with his godly mother instead.

Gaea’s forces—a cohort of cyclopes—interrupt break up their reunion.

“ _MORE DEMIGODS!”_ one yells, dressed with curlers in her mangy hair and an untidy chainmail muumuu. Mammina would scold her into oblivion. She and two other cyclopes run towards them, and the dirt beneath Nico’s feet shakes.

“This way,” Jason says suddenly—and then he ushers them further into camp, with the trio of cyclopes hot on their trail. He sprints yards, practically dragging Nico and Bianca off the ground—and suddenly, they’re in battle again.

They see more demigods than they do monsters—a mixture of orange and purple shirts, either fighting _against_ each other or with each other against monsters in a three-way battle that looks far too exhausting. Nico’s eyes wander the battlefield—the _home_ of both Jason and his sister—and sees satyrs, nymphs, and other demigods that stand their ground to protect their small community from enemies.

It's _nothing_ like the structure of New Rome—but at the same time, the warmth is the same.

The Athena Parthenos sits cordially at the foot of camp, as though she belonged there. She gleams with radiance, with the small statue of Nike perched on her hand wearing a set of Mickey Mouse ears, and looks down at them with a knowing glance—as if to say, _You’re welcome for healing Juno._ For the most part, it looks like the Greeks and Romans have the upper hand against Octavian’s followers—but the knots in Nico’s stomach makes him wonder _why_ that’s the case.

“is that Jason?!” he hears at one point, from a curly-haired teen wearing an orange shirt and holding far too many Roman weapons.

“It’s Jason!” Someone else shouts. “And— _Bianca_ —?”

Jason’s hand tightens over Nico’s—which is the only way Nico realizes they’re still intertwined. He looks up to Jason’s demeanor—which is mixed with queasiness and discomfort. Jason’s fingers shakes beneath Nico’s own, and Nico understands.

Dead bodies everywhere—monsters, and humans.

Nico comes to a halt. Jason almost yanks him off the ground again anyway.

“Nico?” he asks quizzically.

“This is too much for you,” Nico declares. It’s different from putting on a brave face and choking a giant—or even blindly trying to take down Bryce. _This_ hits a little too close to home for Jason—literally, at Camp Halflbood—and Nico doesn’t want it to get lost in the folds of battle. For _Jason_ to get lost in the folds of battle, even if he promises he’s feeling better. “Let’s meet up after the battle.”

Jason stares at him in confusion, his eyes smoking with an unwarranted sense of duty. “What do you expect me to do?”

Without missing a beat, Nico points to Bianca’s makeshift sling. “Save as many lives as you can. _Your_ way.”

Jason seems to understand that much as he looks between the two of them. And then he nods, a sigh of relief spilling from his lips. He points in a different direction. “You want to go this way. I’ll be heading in _this_ direction—”

He gestures to where Nico can only assume is Camp Halfblood’s infirmary, and Nico nods. “Stay safe, Jason.”

Bianca props herself over him with her good shoulder and kisses Jason sweetly on the cheek. “See you on the other side, Jace.”

And then the son of Hades melts into the shadows. Nico turns to meet Bianca’s glance, and they share a look.

“Together?” he asks.

“Together,” she agrees.

They run through the forest with Bianca leading the way. Nico looks at Camp Halfblood in a different light behind her—at the place that raised his sister while he was on the opposite coast, learning under Thalia, Reyna, and Percy. He’s sure it’s beautiful without half of camp set on fire—but can only hope he’ll live long enough to find out.

When they reach a river, Nico understands why Jason directed there. A new surge of energy courses through him, and he matches pace with his sister. “ _Percy_!”

Fifth Centurion Jackson, dressed in imperial gold armor decorated with many badges, raises his head to the peak of a hilltop, where Nico and Bianca stop. A handful of their cohort stands at his side, while a Dragon Frank appears to be fighting some kind of lake serpent.

“Mrs. O’Leary,” Bianca says—and she points into another direction where her hellhound bulldozes through a number of onagers aimed at Camp Halfblood. They exchange another look—and separate into familiar territory.

“Nico!” Percy has his hands full with two violent whirlpools swirling around him for advantage against a pair of giants. Annabeth stands at his side, with a new blade in her hand instead of the knife she carried into New Rome. Percy cocks his head at the sound of Nico’s voice—and his mouth splits into a boyish grin.

“Percy,” Nico says—and he’s quick to land in the water with the Fifth Cohort eagle in hand. “These are laistrygonian giants—they’re not evil!”

Annabeth cocks her head in their direction, her piercing gray eyes locking with Nico’s own.

“Laistry- _what_?” Percy asks, his confusion always privileged to join the battle. “What’s that in English?”

“Canadians,” Annabeth supplies—just as Frank lands, returning to a human form.

Frank stares back at her, offended. “ _I’m_ Canadian.”

“And not evil,” Percy reassures—and he claps his fellow centurion on the back.

“They’re like Tyson,” Nico supplies—which is all Percy needs to hear to refocus. “They’re just a little misguided—nothing more.”

Percy looks at him like he’s grown a second head—but Annabeth apparently understands. She sheathes her sword and runs in front of the two giants—taking the same stance Jason had taken when they took a tumble down a mountain in Russia.

“Hey—you don’t want to fight, right? You’re above that—literally, you’re above Gaea,” Annabeth begins, without the charmspeak but all of the charm.

Percy shakes his head in disbelief—but without hesitation, follows after the other demigod, flapping his hands beside the daughter of Athena. “Yeah, dude—look, you don’t want to ruin that nice manicure of yours by throwing _rocks_ at Camp Halfblood, do you? Save your hands for something more useful—like, tacos!”

Annabeth breaks character—laughing, for the first time since Nico met her—and he doesn’t miss the way Percy’s lips seem to stretch into a wide grin at the sound.

“Praetor di Angelo!” Dakota shouts from somewhere—and Nico turns to see the son of Bacchus closing in on him, with a few legionnaires that survived Disney World.

He sees Reyna close behind, purple praetor cloak tapering down her shoulders. She lights up as she looks at him, proud as ever—and stands tall. Nico feels his chest swell at the sight of her smile.

They salute each other.

_“Ave_ , Praetor di Angelo!” she calls, her short hair fluttering in the wind.

“ _Ave_ , Praetor Ramirez-Arellano!” Once upon a time, Nico felt silly for donning the purple cloak—but his heart feels full as Reyna throws her arms around him. Centurions Zhang and Jackson share looks—and suddenly they grin in Nico’s presence, with the rest of the Legion close behind them. “Legion! CLOSE RANKS!”

All Five Cohorts suddenly mold together into one single army. Percy sweeps Nico with a side-hug before flanking to the front of his cohort.

Reyna’s tattoo glows against her skin, and Nico feels the familiarity of her strength course through him—just like with Mount Tam.

“Legion! _Cuneum formate!_ ” she shouts. “ _Advance!_ ”

The eagle at Nico’s fingers spikes with tendrils of lightning. The Legion forms a wedge—and suddenly, hundreds of monsters go down with Nico’s family.

“You’ve been busy,” Reyna remarks—with a hidden awareness that Nico can’t wait to elaborate on.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Nico tells her. He blasts a ribbon of lightning in the direction of the cyclops that chased after him—and she dissolves, cursing Percy’s name as the norm.

“ _Greeks_ ,” Annabeth calls—and a bunch of orange shirt-wearing demigods fall in line to the daughter of Athena. “Are we gonna let the Romans show us up on _our_ turf?!”

“No ma’am!” A bunch of demigods shout. They salute without the polished precision of a military army, but with exuberant enthusiasm as they go to slaughter.

“Gods, what a woman,” Percy mutters under his breath. He’s grinning, with tissues wedged in both nostrils—but otherwise fights with the same vigor.

Nico almost stumbles as he hears the words. Reyna laughs.

“Percy has a crush,” Reyna supplies, and Percy makes a sound.

“ _Just_ a crush?” Nico muses, and he watches as Percy’s face glows beneath the helmet. “You were alone on a boat for _how long_ , Centurion Jackson?”

“You know, I can’t wait for the day you get a new boyfriend, Praetor di Angelo,” Percy retorts, “because I’m going to shell out _every_ embarrassing photo—”

“Where’s Jason?” Annabeth appears out of nowhere, with her sword in hand. She looks to Nico curiously.

“He couldn’t stomach the fighting,” Nico admits—and her eyes flicker at that. “I sent him away.”

Annabeth looks grateful. She sidles up to them, slashing against monsters and directing Percy to the _bad_ ones. A howling beneath them causes the creek to vibrate. Everyone turns to Mrs. O’Leary, who torpedoes through every Roman catapult belonging to Octavian’s minions. Nico sees Bianca at the helm—with Piper wedged behind her, telling monsters to attack each other.

“Who is _that_?” Percy cries out—at the same time Annabeth drops her arm and shouts, “ _Bianca_?”

“Bianca?” Reyna repeats—and she turns to Nico in confusion.

“The other half of the story,” Nico explains. Another thought occurs to Nico, and he looks fully at both Percy and Reyna. “Where are Thalia and Hazel?”

_Half_ of his answer erupts from the ground. The earth beneath Nico’s folds as a fissure appears _hundreds_ of feet away. Nico stumbles once more—and he’s never been happier to be supported by both his senior praetor and his old senior centurion.

Gaea arises—twenty-feet tall, with a dress woven out of blades of grass, skin as white as quartz, and her hair brown and tangled in tree roots. The ground trembles as she bellows with laughter—and Nico watches as Hazel emerges out of nowhere with Leo on the back of a golden dragon.

Percy leaps into action. “Frank! If you turn into a dragon again—”

“No,” Reyna says sharply—which is apparently an old argument. “ _Storm or Fire_ , Percy. There’s still too much to do down here.”

Percy doesn’t seem to like the answer—which doesn’t surprise Nico. After Reyna and Thalia fell into Tartarus, Nico knows the son of Neptune wants nothing more than to keep all of his friends safe.

“Percy,” Annabeth suddenly says, pulling his attention away. “I could use your help over here!”

They split off into their own quadrant, taking Frank and Dakota with them, while Reyna yanks at Nico’s arm.

“Let’s go find Thalia,” she declares—and they run in the opposite direction.

Nico suddenly wishes he could sense souls like the Grace siblings could. It’s hard to hear the words exchanged from above—but the heat of Leo’s attacks and the gusts of Hazel’s winds keep Gaea busy. The earth fold beneath their feet, and Nico reflexively yanks Reyna off the ground with him as the dirt caves in.

“You still hate the cape?” Reyna jokes as they land on solid footing.

“I will _always_ hate the cape,” Nico declares.

Gusts of wind blow upward, vacuuming Gaea literally off her roots. Nico wishes he could throw the Fifth Cohort eagle at his sister—but there isn’t time. Branches creak and groan, whipping out at Hazel, Leo, and Fetus with dirt and shrapnel—but Nico refuses to believe that Hazel woke up from decades of slumber to die in a few short months.

Leo and Hazel are playing to their strengths, he reminds himself. Nico holds onto Reyna and plays to his.

They find Thalia in a clearing—standing opposed to Octavian and Mike Kahale, with Jason at her side. There’s a boy with them—with bright blue eyes and warm blond hair, who looks saturated compared to the son of Hades.

“Octavian,” the boy says, “Apollo wouldn’t want this.”

“Don’t tell me what Apollo would _want_ , _graecus_ ,” Octavian snaps—in the same nasally voice that Nico certainly didn’t miss, but there’s a mad quality to it. “I’ll destroy Gaea myself! It has been foretold!”

“Did it ever occur to you that your pillow pets could be _wrong_?” Thalia retorts. She’s injured. From the looks of it, Jason and the other demigod had come to collect her.

“Hazel and Leo are up there,” Jason reasons, “You’d be firing at your own allies.”

“Sometimes war must be won with the lives of our allies,” Octavian snaps viciously. “You know something about that, don’t you, son of Pluto? Care to share with the class?”

The tips of fingers Nico’s crackle with irritation. Reyna covers his hand, to silence the rage—and points to a golden pilum hovering behind the legacy of Apollo. Nico takes it all in. Jason and Thalia are playing a sensitive game, ready to strike before Octavian can pull the trigger on the onagar, but their first plan of action is talking the arrogant augur down.

“Octavian,” Thalia snaps sharply. “As your commanding officer—”

“Commanding officer? _Ha_!” Octavian laughs haughtily. “You still have the nerve to call yourself that after you abandoned your post and selected the worse successor of all time? Maybe _I’m_ not the one losing it!”

The pilum spirals threateningly, and Thalia marches forward. “You listen here, you _care bear piece of shit_ —”

“Too late!” Octavian cries.

Then it all happens at once.

Off in the distance, Gaea lands in an oak tree atop a steep hill. She cackles so loudly that it radiates through all of camp like the echo on a mountain range—then attempts to maneuver the branches beneath her. The hill dissolves into mist—and Festus butts her higher into the air.

Mrs. O’Leary appears out of nowhere, with a magnificent _RRRRUUUUFF!_ and crooked arrow nose piercing, and slams into Octavian’s last onagar, seizing the delusional augur in her teeth.

The ammunition goes flying anyway.

“ _TAKE COVER!”_ Piper yells—either before or after the hellhound’s appearance, Nico will never remember—but it echoes in the immediate proximity.

Nico reaches for Reyna as Reyna reaches for him, Jason yanks his sister back—and from far away, Festus drops Hazel and Leo from his claw, glowing with a searing heat that matches the sun.

The ammo slams into Mother Earth, lighting aflame—and the sky explodes into a dome of fire.

*

Nico’s heart plunges faster than Leo and Hazel.

“Thalia!” Reyna calls—and she runs from their hiding spot.

“Reyna,” Thalia calls back, at the same time that Bianca turns to face Nico.

“Nico—”

“Hazel,” Nico cuts in, his mind going a mile a minute. “Hazel, and Leo—Hazel— _Bianca_ —”

Jason grabs Nico while he’s busy sputtering, tethering Nico from a wave of panic. “This way.”

They leave Octavian, jailed between Mrs. O’Leary’s teeth, and Jason and Thalia shadowtravel the rest of them to where Hazel and Leo ( _hopefully_ ) landed.

Nico walks—nearly stomps behind Jason—as they find Hazel and Leo sequestered at the entrance of a giant ant hill, unconscious, bruised, and battered, but—

“They’re alive, Nico,” Jason whispers to him. “Both of them. They’re going to be fine.”

Nico’s legs practically give out on him. He wobbles—until he finds himself passed off to both Thalia and Bianca, while Jason and his friend go off to inspect the bodies. From what Nico can see, Hazel is scorched, the ends of her hair torched from battle and burns prickling at her skin—but not nearly as bad as it could’ve been. Leo has an arm sticking in an odd direction, and Nico wonders if the son of Vulcan tried to protect her.

There’s a silence, as everyone processes what just happened.

Then—“Why is there a giant _anthill_ next to Camp Halfblood?” Thalia asks.

Jason cocks his head back to his sister. “Myrmekes. They’re practically indestructible, but they’ll leave you alone with the right incentives.”

He grimaces—and points to the remains of Festus, the Dragon as a colony of ants chitter around metal scraps.

“Poisonous though,” Jason warns. “Don’t stick your hand in their mouth without the right protection.”

That snaps Nico out of his stupor—if only for a moment. “ _Why_ would you stick your hand in their mouth?” 

They sit in another silence, while Jason gingerly pulls Hazel into his arms like she weighed nothing. He’s careful not to aggravate her wounds—and a German Shepherd sized ant sidles up to Jason. “They’re just like giant dogs. With thoraxes instead of tails.”

Nico makes a sound—but it’s nothing better than unintelligible.

A laugh erupts from behind Nico—the first time he’s heard it in ages now. Thalia’s mirth is warm, her touch familiar at his back.

“Baby brother,” she announces, “you’re so fucking metal.”

Jason’s lips etch into a grateful smile—and the reality finally sets in.

Gaea was gone. The war was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! We packed a lot into this one, didn't we? Hopefully you guys enjoyed the Dearly Departed version of Orion and Gaea's demise. There's only two more chapters in this story, but the sequel is going to cover a lot on where we pick up with the boys before Over the Rainbow happens. Thank you so much for reading so far. I'm so glad to end this godforsaken year with not just one, but (possibly) two complete jasico stories!


	17. family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeus grows in height, shadowing the court beneath him. Then—out of nowhere, he jabs a finger at Jason and a gust of wind follows in suit. “When you have a necromancer on your side, who commands the souls of our children when they leave the surface, it threatens my realm. When you have a son that’s near indestructible—”
> 
> “Jason doesn’t fight,” someone suddenly interjects.
> 
> The precision of the claim catches Zeus off guard, and the King of the Gods turns around. Nico crosses his arms, standing tall against his father. The air grows ionic, and Zeus’s gaze narrows at the praetor before him.
> 
> “I believe the events of your last quest would say otherwise, my son,” Zeus says evenly—and Nico seems to grow tense at the pet name.
> 
> “Ah,” Jason says—and this time, he doesn’t raise his hand. He stands to his feet and feels Nico’s eyes darting back to him. “Not anymore, sir. I’m trying to retire.”

Nico and Jason go their separate ways. The end of a war means the start of repairs—and while everyone needs a moment to breathe, there are too many bodies on the ground who no longer have that privilege. The first Civil War was the bloodiest war they’d ever seen—and Jason hopes the body count doesn’t reach nearly that a second time—nor what it was last year.

The Roman demigods are quick to erect a base for themselves at the foot of the cabins—including a praetor tent, a tent for incarceration, and an infirmary of their own. Nico was vehemently against separating from Hazel while she recovered, but the New Romans were left in an awkward state without a Roman leader. They had to discuss the Legionnaires who followed Octavian’s order without hesitation. 

So, it leaves Jason in Camp Halfblood’s own medbay, assisting Will and the other members of the Apollo Cabin to the best of his ability. He can’t sing a hymn or diagnose a patient within a blink of an eye like Will, but he tends to Hazel and Leo’s wounds and earns the Will Solace Seal of Approval.

Will whistles at Jason’s handiwork and clean lines. “You sure we’re not related?”

“All son of Hades here,” Jason denies, the edge of lips etching into a tiny smile.

Will’s approving hum delicately turns into a hymn, and Jason watches as Hazel and Leo glow with the light of a muted sun before their wounds look less severe. Their pulses become a steady cadence in Jason’s ears.

“You’ve been missed,” Will admits. He raises his gaze with his sunny blue eyes, calm against the contained chaos around them. “We’re going to need you now more than ever to help talk people through this trauma, Jason. Two wars in a row does no good for anyone’s psyche.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Jason replies—though the words feel heavier when they leave his mouth. He studies Hazel, reminded how their journey started when he led her to Camp Jupiter. His chest aches as he looks at her now—moments away from death after waking up for the first time in nearly a century.

And—Leo, too. Jason had dragged the son of Vulcan away from his family for the sake of a prophecy. They all deserve a little bit of peace after this.

Will claps a hand on his shoulder. “You should get some rest, Jason. When I say _anyone_ , that includes you.”

Jason stares at the son of Apollo, confused. “I’ve…hardly done anything.”

“Trust me, you do plenty,” Will retorts, one blond eyebrow of disbelief in the air. “But if you really want to be useful, start with a shower.”

Which is how Jason finds himself showering for the first times in weeks. His hair—while not the length of Nico or Bianca’s, is marled and knotted from weeks of lying on the ground. Stubble lines his jaw, while bags decorate his eyes.

But—no blood. Jason’s button up and pants are riddled with holes from battles with the empousai, the Huntresses and Amazons, and Orion, but he’s fine. No one died at his hands—and he stopped short of participating in this Demigod Civil War before it could ever get that far, thanks to Nico.

No blood, no fighting.

When Jason sets the gladius down at the foot of his bed in Cabin Eleven (which feels like it _folds_ under his weight), he has no intention of picking it back up.

The fatigue splashes him in the face as much as the warm water does. Campers seem to be in various states of arrest—either running around the infirmary, like Will, cleaning up debris like the Hephaestus Cabin, on reconstruction plans. The adrenaline of battle hasn’t left anyone quite yet—and until it does, Jason thinks everyone will try to pull their weight.

Every now and then, he looks at the tent erected by the New Romans for the Senate—where Thalia, Reyna, Nico, and Percy all disappeared to deliberate while Jason and Will worked on their two slayers of Gaea. The entire process seems formal compared to Camp Halfblood’s raw energy—but Jason reminds himself that while New Rome took the first blow, Camp Halfblood was the end result.

He finds Bianca sitting at the campfire with Mrs. O’Leary resting beside her. They bask in the heat of the hearth, with the giant rod that was once wedged in the hellhound’s snout now burning as the strangest offering to the gods that Jason has seen today. Mrs. O’Leary snoozes with high-pitched whistle from her nostrils.

“You didn’t want to rest?” Jason asks.

She raises her head and Jason notices the item resting between her fingers—her old green cap. In a way, it’s a strange sight—her electric blue eyes inherited by the King of the Heavens, the grace of her presence from her mother—and then the parka and quiver of arrows from the Huntresses.

Bianca smiles tiredly—in a way they all have today and makes room for him on her log.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she admits. 

Jason doesn’t have an answer for that. After their run-in with Hera, he assumed Bianca would be leaving them sooner than not. But here she was now, hours after the sun had set on Long Island, waiting for rest like everyone else.

“Was it like this last year?” Bianca asks quietly. She gestures to the number of people busying themselves with other things around him. There isn’t one sense of silence in Camp Halfblood—between the Apollo Cabin seeping in and out of the infirmary, the Athena and Hephaestus Cabin discussing much needed repairs, and so on. Jason would soon be helping with the funeral rites when the dust settled on Camp Halfblood and they had a proper body count. Again.

“Last year was worse,” Jason admits. Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “but I think everyone is taking it better this year. Which…feels even worse.”

Worse, because it’s something that they shouldn’t have to be _used_ to. Bianca spent a lot of time pretending the prophecy didn’t exist. Camp Halfblood is weathered from war—from their oldest camper to their youngest.

The Roman demigods seem somewhat better adjusted—but Jason had made that observation when they first met. In some ways, Jason’s amazed how they can quickly build up a miniature base so close to the end of the war.

Maybe if Octavian had died, they’d be chummy around the campfire in the familiar way that Jason’s grown up. For now, the New Romans were trying to find the best way to move forward after Octavian attempted to destroy their current government.

“I tried to help Annabeth clean up some of the rubble,” Bianca says, carrying the conversation elsewhere. She shakes her head. “She wasn’t sure what to do with me. That’s been the ongoing trend.”

Jason hesitates. Bianca was a huge point of contention between Annabeth and him, even past her death. “She’ll come around, Bianca.”

Bianca snorts. It’s very Nico-sque. “I don’t think there’s time for that. Does it matter if she does?”

“If it matters to you, then I think it does.”

She makes a face and fiddles with the strap on her new sling. It’s much cleaner looking than the curtain Jason had ripped up. Slowly, her gaze rises to the Roman campsite, and her shoulders fall.

“I hurt him a lot more than I thought,” Bianca admits finally. She chews on her lip. “I…hurt a _lot_ of people more than I thought.”

This time, she lifts her gaze and looks directly back at him, waiting for a response. Oh.

“I never apologized for leaving,” Bianca says. She turns to him now, Mrs. O’Leary forgotten, and awkwardly rubs her shoulder. “I mean…I got back from the Labyrinth and then I didn’t talk to you for a week…then I left. You’ve been at my side since I came to Camp Halfblood, Jace. You deserve more than me telling you that I was leaving for the Huntresses. For…leaving you to deal with all of that.”

She looks at him in the same manner as one of his dreams—but this time, Bianca looks like she’s the one that was haunted.

Jason touches the back of his neck. He wonders if things would have fallen into place the way they did had Bianca stayed alive—or if things would’ve been worse.

“I think,” Jason finally says, “that Luke was always going to be my battle.”

He hesitates—but a part of Jason decides the words should be said aloud.

“I…resented you for a bit. For a lot of things. But—I think I was jealous that you’d found an out,” he admits, embarrassed. He fiddles with his necklace now, unsure of how the words will be received. Slowly, Jason inhales a breath, and lowers his head with a mute conversation. “Luke’s…not an easy subject for me.”

Jason doubts he ever will be.

“You…were the first person I felt like I could talk to after he left,” he says. “And after you left too, I thought…maybe I was the problem.”

“You’re not,” Bianca insists quickly, and she sits tall in her seat, her eyebrows furrowed together. “Jace, everything that happened—”

“Your dad didn’t give you a choice either,” Jason reminds her. The scent of saltwater fills his nostrils, and the smoke of the hearth reminds him of the billowing storm of Zeus’s rage. “We were both dealt a bad hand, Bee.”

Bianca halts in her apology, her eyebrows pressed together. Her eyes are glassy as she lowers her head in agreement.

“I don’t hate you,” Jason says—and after all of the dismissals he insisted upon with Nico, he finds the words are easy. “I…think I did, and I tried everything in my power _not_ to feel that way because I _don’t_ want to hate you. We’ve been through too much together for me to want _that_ to be the last way I feel about you.”

He waits, to see how she’ll react to a word as strong as _hate_ —but Jason thinks he understands what she means by _ongoing trend._ He’d been privy to the bickering of the di Angelo siblings—the intensity of it and all of the gesturing. But he also saw how they were able to sit next to each other on a pew, only a few feet away from their godly mother, when earlier this morning, they were exchanging such yearning looks.

Finally, Bianca asks, “So what changed?”

“Nico,” Jason admits freely. He fiddles with the necklace around his collarbone—pauses, with the silent musing that it may be a habit he adopted from so many weeks with one Praetor di Angelo—and shrugs. “I’ve probably said a _thousand_ wrong things to your brother since I’ve met him.”

“You?” The edge of Bianca’s lips etches into a disbelieving smile. “Jace, have you seen Nico and I talk? You’re the most _mild-mannered_ boy that I’ve ever met.”

“I…think that was part of the problem.” Jason flushes, pink glowing in his cheeks. “But Nico, he…just kept coming back.”

Even when they were at their furthest, Nico still spared him a glance. Jason remembers those first few weeks in New Rome—how his admission to Kronos’s defeat was met with a toast to a court of _crappy_ gods. Now he’d fallen into Nico’s step, letting the other demigod grab him through the darkness.

“He’s been really good to me,” Jason repeats, from their time in Disney World. Bianca’s eyes flicker with the same plaintive spark.

“I didn’t teach him that,” Bianca states. She raises her hand slowly and pulls a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think Mammina had enough time to each him that, either.”

Reyna, Thalia, and Percy did. Everything had happened so fast after they found Hazel and Leo that there was no time for introductions. Jason promised Hazel and Leo’s safety, Thalia, Reyna, and Nico had been pulled away to mollify their own campers, and the shock of Bianca’s arrival was just a cherry on top of an already loaded Gaea sundae.

“He’s going to be fine without me,” she declares softly. “I’m glad I got to see him long enough to know that.”

She leans into his warmth, and Jason feels an ache in his chest.

“Will you take me down?” she asks. Bianca raises her gaze and stares at him hopefully. “Nico’s not the only one who deserves a goodbye this time.”

“Sure,” Jason agrees—and then he hesitates again. He stands to his feet and extend a hand. “But…let’s make something out of the rest of the day first. I want more time with my best friend.”

Bianca stares at him curiously, and the edges of Jason’s lips etch into a weak smile.

“Call me selfish,” he says gently—and she smiles back.

They make their way back to the infirmary first. Much like Bianca’s confusion back in Florida, it comes out full force now as Jason falls into the rhythm of cleaning up and reorganizing supplies. He watches as she slowly grabs a stool and places it beside Hazel. Bianca fiddles tentatively with the strap of her sling.

“She tried to move the hippie statue too,” Jason tells her. “It blew back in her face.”

The edge of Bianca’s lips twitches. She pushes hair out of her own face and pulls the blanket over Hazel. “I love her already.”

“I’ve,” Jason admits, “told you as much about her as I can.”

Bianca smiles back, channeling all of her nervous energy into her sling until Jason makes her quit.

“Bianca,” a voice calls eventually. Nico walks straight up to them, newly dressed in a Camp Jupiter t-shirt and praetor badge. He looks closer to the Nico di Angelo Jason first met months ago, and yet better with the badge at his chest. Behind him, Thalia, Reyna, Percy, and Frank follow in suit.

“Nico,” she greets, and she stands to her feet, evidently nervous. “Are your meetings over with?”

Nico’s gaze storms with irritation—at someone else, rather than his sister—and shakes his head. He looks as tired as the rest of them do, with bags under his eyes in the hours after the war. A crease appears between his eyebrows. “Not quite. We’re in a recess right now. There’s still a lot to do as far as the Legion and Octavian go, and then the reorganization of Camp.”

He speaks of it with such ease that four months ago, Jason never would’ve imagined Nico scoffing at the idea of praetorship.

Suddenly, Nico looks around. “Where’s Jason?”

Jason blinks. He raises his hand, and Nico evidently startles. “Present.”

Nico stares at him, surprised—then scans him. “You’re wearing orange.”

“I figured people could distinguish me better in orange,” Jason explains. He tugs at the collar of his shirt while both of the di Angelo siblings look at him peculiarly.

“Jace,” Bianca starts slowly, “you’re a son of Hades. If _anyone_ could look distinguishable—”

“You blend right in,” Nico disagrees—but he scans Jason amicably and smooths out a wrinkle in one of Jason’s sleeves. “But the color is a nice change of pace for you instead of that jacket.”

Bianca stares at her brother, offended. “I _like_ that jacket.”

“You would,” Nico mutters—which makes Bianca frown.

“Are you criticizing my taste in clothes?” she asks.

“Don’t be silly,” Nico admonishes. “You never had one.”

Jason laughs softly under his breath as Bianca rouses with irritation—and it’s apparently a sound that catches all of them off guard. He plucks Nico’s hand off his bicep and inspects the length of Nico’s fingers. “You look better.”

Pink dusts across Nico’s face. It’s slow, but Nico pulls away and rubs his own knuckles. He gestures to the demigods waiting patiently behind him. “The first hour of our meeting was a lecture of how I shouldn’t _push_ myself.”

Jason looks back up to his sister for confirmation—who nods whole-heartedly. “I mean—you shouldn’t.”

“You shouldn’t either,” Nico retorts without a second thought—and he turns his gaze to Hazel. “We wanted to see how Hazel and Leo were holding up.”

“As good as they can be right now,” Jason reassures. “They’re going to be fine, Nico.”

Nico doesn’t look doubtful, but his lips press into a worried line. Jason looks over Nico’s shoulder, and notices all of the Romans—Nico’s immediate family—staring curiously and patiently at Bianca from afar. Bianca keeps stealing glances in their direction—but she looks nervous to break the ice.

Annabeth comes into the room after that. She steals a glance at Jason with a weary smile, and then she falls into Percy’s air. “How are they doing?”

Hazel makes a noise, stirring. Beside her, Leo starts muttering some words—

And then everything goes white.

*

Olympus is as Jason remembers it: harsh and brutal in its glory. The marble columns are white and pristine, adorned with beautiful vines, flowers, and gold ornate carvings in the walls. Hestia’s hearth sits dead center, tended to with care as it calms the golden palace with a welcoming heat. Twelve seats decorate the throne room, nestled in a Reverse U and held by all twelve gods.

And then some. Jason blinks—and he takes in the sight of his father sitting in a thirteenth seat beside Dionysus—a stool, like before, as the congregation is held. His eyes pull to his father, where Hades is ready to meet his gaze with a quiet, but proud smile. The chair beneath Hades is feeble in comparison to all of the other thrones adorned by their symbols of power—but his seat radiates with the comfort of his smile and fondness for his children alone.

A lump swells in Jason’s throat. He turns to see the same smile mirrored by his sister. It’s the first time the three of them have been together—at least the only one he knows about.

Jason turns to see who was transported to Olympus. All Seven from the Argo crew, including both Leo and Hazel, who’ve been awake for all of five seconds, Nico and himself—

And Bianca.

Nico, Hazel, and Bianca stand together, despite having a hospital bed wedged between them only months before. The positioning is all but unintentional, with the three children of the Heavens wedged closest to the front of the throne room like the King and Queen.

Zeus, unprompted, speaks first.

“Heroes,” He greets, voice clapping like thunder, “you’ve given Olympus a great win today, and have gone to immeasurable lengths to honor us, your godly parents. I sit before you today—proud!”

His voice echoes through the throne room like an empty auditorium. Jason watches every demigod flinch in varying degrees at the voice of the King of the Gods. Leo looks like he’s fighting off a hangover. Hazel looks nonplussed, and both the di Angelo siblings carry a well-deserved ire. Despite the discipline that Jason has come to associate with New Rome, he notices Percy roll his eyes—and catches a quick glance at Neptune, who mimics his son’s facial expression well.

“Not only was Gaea defeated by my own daughter,” Zeus continues without missing a beat, “but peace has been made between our Greek and Roman children, whose feud precedes _centuries_ , by both my son and other daughter—Nico and Bianca.”

His smile grows pompous and warm—something Jason wasn’t privileged to see last summer. A year ago, Zeus grumbled under his breath about the missed opportunity of Bianca slaying Kronos. Now, Zeus’s lips etch into an exultant grin.

Again, his statement is met with a daft silence.

“Have you anything to say for yourselves, my children?” Zeus asks, his voice filled with a pride that goes beyond the 600th floor of the Empire State Building.

Nico, Hazel, and Bianca all look at each other.

Slowly, Hazel staggers forward, supported by both her brother and sister. She clears her throat.

“Dad,” she starts slowly, “thank you for…waiting until I woke up to call this assembly.”

Her voice is raspy, still filled with sleep and exhaustion from Gaea’s explosion.

A stifled laugh echoes through the hall. Percy’s, while both Thalia and Reyna nudge him in the rib.

“You deserved the rest, my daughter,” Zeus says, and his voice is warm. Much like his palace though, his smile is austere.

Hazel twitches, evidently trying her best not to make a face. Instead, she shifts her weight to her good foot and pushes hair out of her face. “Yes, well…I…couldn’t have done it without my friends. Leo saved me from the blast. Annabeth found the Athena Parthenos. Percy helped keep the ship together while Thalia and Reyna shut the Doors of—”

“Yes, yes—I’m not discrediting _their_ contributions to your accomplishment, my daughter,” Zeus interrupts, and there’s a twinkle to his eye. “To storm or fire. I believe it’s your trickery that kept Gaea suspended in air.”

At the mention of Mother Earth’s last few seconds on earth, Hazel looks around briefly.

“It was all thanks to the mist, Dad,” she says softly. “Hecate told me I could tap into it like Mom did. Where…where is she?”

Zeus’s expression fills with mirth, evidently humored by the request. “You stand before your siblings, amongst the court of Olympus, and ask for a goddess without a throne?”

Hazel looks puzzled by the question. Both Nico and Bianca look ready to defend their younger sister. She props herself with Nico, and then shakes her head. Slowly, she turns her head to look at Reyna, then to the rest of the throne room.

“Olympus was closed, Dad,” she continues. Her voice grows steadier the longer she speaks. “A lot of the assistance we received were from minor gods when it wasn’t received from our parents. Bellona helped guide our ship after Thalia and Reyna fell. Nemesis gave Leo the fortune cookies that helped save Frank and I. And—not to mention the amount of Iris messages that were conveyed back and forth between the ship and Nico.”

At the mention of that, Nico’s cheeks flush with a warmth, but he doesn’t avert his gaze.

Instead, Zeus’s demeanor hardens, and the air grows frigid with his ire gaze. “I was unaware that you received such aid from your parents when such action was _expressly_ forbidden.”

Hazel grimaces—but neither Bianca nor Nico allow her to shrink. With that, Hazel takes a firmer stance.

“No one can ever say you didn’t abide by your own rule, Dad,” she says—which somehow seems to placate the King of the Heavens.

“These rules exist for a reason,” he says sternly. The domed ceiling grays with the storm of his irritation, and he clutches the arm rests of his marble throne. “Centuries of peace, thrown into back-to-back wars with not even a year between! Hades is a _model_ of deception, siring a child under the Great Prophecy—”

Jason feels his entire body grow cold—but Thalia keeps a hand on him. He sees Nico turn to look at him, a frown curled against the other demigod’s lips—but Zeus continues, whether it’s desired or not.

“—and my own _wife_ went against my decree and risked Olympus by switching two daughters of war,” Zeus scolds. The sting of his tone is met with a grimace from Hera.

Jason looks at her now, realizing something is off about her appearance. The diadem rests at the crown of her head, but instead of a goatskin across her shoulders is a cape of peacock feathers drape across her nape, while her dress seems to flicker between white and blue.

One look at the di Angelo siblings, and Jason realizes they’ve noticed the same thing.

Neptune heaves a sigh—which makes Jason realize the conglomeration of Greek and Roman forms in front of him.

“Here we go again,” Neptune says—and Jason almost jumps at how the cadence is so similar to his son’s. “Our little brother would like to be congratulated for being able to keep a promise longer than two decades. Does this argument need to be rehashed?”

Zeus’s expression glows with the heat of a red sun. “You dare call me _little brother_ in front of my court? In front of my children?”

“If you insist on bringing it up every equinox and solstice—then yes.” Neptune sighs once more, which makes Jason think of bubbles in an aquarium. “The boy already saved Olympus, brother. That prophecy has passed. We, the gods, cannot control Fates’ will, but I believe we can continue the seasons without reprimanding Hades.”

Hades lifts an eyebrow—evidently as surprised as Jason feels.

Still, Zeus’s expression darkens—and suddenly, the demigods before them don’t matter. He turns to the throne beside him, lips contorted into a frown beneath his salt and pepper beard. “The glory of our father’s death belonged by my daughter, Bianca, just like her father before her.”

This time, Bianca’s grip tightens over her sister. She straightens her posture, and the weathered look from Jason’s dream returns to her face. “I don’t—”

“I believe she renounced that… _privilege,_ Father,” Artemis interjects, her voice smooth and eloquent, “when she swore an oath to my Huntresses. She could no longer be the Chosen One. Not the one that you’re thinking of.”

Zeus’s attention snaps to his Huntress daughter, but she stands her ground, her expression poised as Jason knows her.

“Lady Artemis,” Bianca says suddenly, and she kneels in front of the goddess. “The Amazons and my sisters…are they…are they okay?”

Artemis registers the sound of Bianca’s voice, her expression looking as solemn and cold as their father’s—but slowly, she lowers her head. “The numbers have dwindled like every war before, sister. But the Amazons and Huntresses are led by good leaders.”

“My sister, then,” Reyna interjects—and Bianca’s gaze skirts over to the daughter of Bellona for the first time. Reyna’s expression is hopeful. “She’s alive?”

The edge of Artemis’s lips twitch. “Were she not already the Queen of the Amazons, I’d wish to have her as my own. My lieutenant would stubbornly agree.”

A sigh of relief leaves Reyna’s mouth, her shoulders falling.

“Victor of last summer’s war aside,” Zeus grumbles, and he crosses his arms over his chest, irritable, “I think we can all agree that Hera’s judgment was hasty. Swapping a Greek and Roman demigod was a steep gambit—”

“That paid off, husband,” Hera rebukes, her voice filled with irritation.

Zeus shoots a withering glare at his wife. “—and in the end, it was the strength of _my_ children that saved Olympus. Hazel, Nico, and Bianca—”

An upstart radiates across the throne room, all caused by the Gods of Olympus rather than the children sitting before them.

“Are you forgetting that _my_ sweet Piper was a mediator between the Greeks and Romans, Zeus?” Aphrodite admonishes. She closes her makeup compact and harrumphs. “And yet you didn’t see it fit to call her to this assembly. An argument could be made that your _daughter_ over there should be dead!”

Bianca flinches at the words—and suddenly, all eyes fall to Hades.

“I see she’s alive,” he notes.

Jason and Bianca exchange looks.

“A war would not’ve been waged between the Greeks and Romans, Aphrodite,” Athena tuts, “were it not for Leo Valdez shooting a ballista at New Rome.”

Vulcan appears to shrink in his seat, while Leo rubs his forehead.

“Yes, well,” Vulcan says, and he clears his throat lamely. “My boy did an excellent job designing those weapons, I’d say. A shame that the boat disintegrated in the trip back to Long Island.”

Leo flushes at the compliment—but much like every other demigod in the room, glares at his dad as though trying to set Vulcan on fire.

The gods all look ready to bicker again—until Percy interjects. “Leo wasn’t at fault for that. He was being controlled by eidolons. Me, Leo, and Beth all were. We’d probably still be biting each other’s heads off if Jason hadn’t noticed.”

Jason perks as his name gets thrown into the mix. He watches as Percy folds his arms over his chest, expression pointed and looking very similar Neptune’s. After such a bad rapport in the beginning of their quest, it’s hard to believe that Percy would vouch for him.

Jason raises his hand—which garners the attention of the court.

“What?” Zeus asks, his gaze narrowed.

“Sir,” Jason starts. He presents himself on one knee. “I’m just…very confused why Bellona isn’t here. Reyna is one of the Seven.”

“Bellona is not on the court of Olympus,” Zeus dismisses quickly.

“Neither is my father,” Thalia retorts. She doesn’t kneel like Jason, but her hand goes to his back anyway. “But his presence is important enough that he had to swear some vow not to have any Greek children.”

Hades’s form seems to trickle in a haze for a second and his Grecian chiton disappears in favor of a black velvet suit, souls stirring over the fabric in a golden ornate pattern.

“We’re still on this subject?” Zeus glares at her dangerously—which makes Jason reach out to shield her from his wrath.

Pluto beats him to it. “Since you can’t seem to do anything but beat a dead horse, brother, I believe we are.”

The sky booms with Zeus’s temper, and he jabs a finger in Pluto’s direction. “Two wars in a row, brother! You threaten to seize my throne by siring a child after our vow and growing your kingdom below!”

Pluto rolls his eyes pointedly, his hands crossed over his chest. “What _good_ is this for me, brother, to have a mass of teenagers running around my kingdom? My lieutenant and psychopomp have to work overtime to gather these souls—on top of the ones who’ve died due to natural causes. Sickness! Old age! Tell me, brother, how my realm threatens yours!”

Zeus grows in height, shadowing the court beneath him. Then—out of nowhere, he jabs a finger at Jason and a gust of wind follows in suit. “When you have a _necromancer_ on your side, who commands the souls of our children when they leave the surface, it threatens my realm. When you have a son that’s near _indestructible_ —”

“Jason doesn’t fight,” someone suddenly interjects.

The precision of the claim catches Zeus off guard, and the King of the Gods turns around. Nico crosses his arms, standing tall against his father. The air grows ionic, and Zeus’s gaze narrows at the praetor before him.

“I believe the events of your last quest would say otherwise, my son,” Zeus says evenly—and Nico seems to grow tense at the pet name.

“Ah,” Jason says—and this time, he doesn’t raise his hand. He stands to his feet and feels Nico’s eyes darting back to him. “Not anymore, sir. I’m trying to retire.”

Another stifled snigger—this time definitely from Percy.

On cue, another god of Olympus balks at his claim. Mars. “C’mon, kid—you? Child of one of the Three Kings, bathed in the River Styx?”

At that revelation, Jason feels the eyes of every demigod fall to him. Even some of the gods look skeptical because of Mars’s statement.

“A hero who has every skill tipped in his favor and saved Olympus,” Athena notes, one eyebrow arched in the air. Her gray eyes are as analytical as her daughter’s. “Yet he chooses peace against war.”

Jason lets the statement sink in, unsure of how to process it. Then, he shifts between his feet and rubs his forehead. “Um—I…think most people would choose peace over war, Lady Athena. Most if not the entire court of Olympus.”

Another round of gentle laughs travels through the court itself, and Jason feels his cheeks flush. As he turns to his father for guidance, all he sees is the amusement on Hades’s face.

“I believe my son has eloquently used his voice here, Athena,” Hades remarks, and he stares at Jason with approval. “The issue that Zeus keeps overshadowing with his tantrum—”

“I am _not_ throwing a tantrum,” Zeus grumbles.

“—is that two wars have been waged,” Hades continues, without missing a beat. “These demigods have fought well in our name—”

“Not just your name—sir,” Percy interjects, correcting himself as Hades’s attention darts to him. Zeus shoots a smug look at the King of the Dead—something akin to, _Doesn’t feel so good to be interrupted_ , _does it_? “Jason’s right. Reyna played an important part in the war. There’s no reason her mother shouldn’t be here.”

Zeus heaves an exasperated sigh. “If I call Bellona, can we carry on with this assembly?”

His question is more of a threat than a means to quell. He narrows his gaze at the Argo II Crew—and they all look at each other. Hazel speaks up once again.

“It’s not just Bellona, Dad,” she says. “Olympus was closed. The help we received along the way was from minor gods and goddesses, who were willing to help tip the scale in our favor. We had nowhere else to turn.”

Zeus’s demeanor grows dark, clearly dissatisfied that his solution has been dismissed. “You question my decision in closing Olympus, daughter?”

“Well it certainly didn’t help,” Percy retorts, blasé—and this time, Zeus looks ready to smite the son of Neptune.

Frank clears his throat. Before, Jason thinks the son of Mars would have shrunk in the presence of so many gods. This time, he looks at the court, surrounded by the rest of the Argo II Crew and looking confident. “I, uh. I think the reason why there have been two wars back-to-back is because of the gods, sir.”

He flinches, as another chord of dissent radiates across the court.

“Would you like to try that again, boy?” Mars asks—hugging the border between fear and amusement as not one smile graces Zeus’s face.

Frank looks timid once more—but instead of backing down, he stands his ground. “I…wasn’t there for Saturn, Dad, but it seems like these back-to-back wars have been fought in the name of the gods. A huge part of your realm is fueled by anger. Feuds, against other people. Octavian was able to manipulate the anger of the New Romans after the eidolons aimed the ballistae at our home—”

“And Luke was angry with the gods. Angry at Hermes, and Apollo, sir,” Annabeth adds on. The said gods look onto her, an eyebrow lifted in the air.

Apollo rolls his eyes animatedly, his hand strumming the strings of his ukulele. “Geez, I didn’t realize rewarding heroes was going to be met with so much whining.”

“Yes, girl,” Hermes agrees. His own demeanor reflects the King of the Gods, narrowing Annabeth’s path into a thin line. “Tread carefully on this road, Annabeth Chase. You might not like what you find at the other end of the tunnel.”

A protective surge spikes through Jason—but Percy beats him to it.

“Lord Mercury,” Percy says, “you love your kids, don’t you?”

Hermes’s suit disappears, his winged hat shimmering over his head. A satchel appears at his hip, and he stares at the son of Neptune, his gaze even more intimidating. “Of course I do, Percy Jackson. I have no idea—”

“I know my dad loves his kids,” Percy continues, and he gestures to Neptune. “He may not always show it—or have the time to show it, but he cared enough about my brother Tyson to bring him to me. Enough to offer Tyson a home in Atlantis. That’s _more_ than a lot of other kids get. Some demigods serve ten whole years in the Legion without ever knowing who their godly parent is.”

“Your cabin is used as a crossroads for unclaimed demigods, sir,” Annabeth continues, when Mercury’s demeanor doesn’t change. “You’re the God of Travelers. But for a demigod to be able to figure out where they belong, they need to have a destination. And if they don’t have a defined path, then they’re lost.”

“Exactly!” Percy throws his hands in the air. “How many times are you looking at your phone and accidentally take a wrong turn? Doesn’t that piss you off?”

Annabeth looks like she wants to break one of Percy’s ribs—but the metaphor isn’t lost on Mercury. The snakes in his caduceus seem to hiss in agreement.

Again, Jason raises his hand. He feels a chill run up the back of his spine as Hermes’s piercing blue eyes land on him but stands his ground.

“Go on,” Hermes encourages.

“I…know something about crossroads, sir,” Jason says. His gaze lifts to his father, who appears intrigued by his words. A lump swells in Jason’s throat, and it takes all of him not to have his gaze fixated on the ground. “Luke, he… _put_ me at a crossroads when he betrayed Camp Halfblood. He…wanted me to come with him. The decision _not_ to go with him was…one of the hardest in my life.”

The thunder booms above them, and Zeus stands to the ground, jabbing another finger at Jason. “See! Look how easily this boy could betray Olympus!”

It happens fast. Jason hardly registers being shoved behind Thalia, having the di Angelo siblings fly in front of him, and of Annabeth standing firm to make sure attention falls back onto her.

“Jason has been at Camp Halfblood longer than any other demigod,” she responds. “His time there _outlives_ the lives of other demigods! Fourteen years, living as a son of Hades without a cabin to call his own. Jason is a demigod who _chose_ to fight for Olympus, even while his father doesn’t hold a seat in this court. But there are many kids who didn’t—and _won’t_ make that decision. Luke wasn’t the first and he definitely won’t be the last. To dismiss that would be—be— _unwise._ ”

Zeus’s gaze narrows at her now, and the air around the room seems to snap with electricity.

“You speak to me, Annabeth Chase, in front of my court,” he snarls, “and dare call me _unwise_?”

Annabeth’s demeanor shifts the slightest degree. This time, Percy’s thumb tucks between the cap of his sword, ready to launch, and Jason considers shadowtraveling all of them out of there.

“I do, sir,” she says finally, and her eyes shimmer.

“I believe my daughter could not speak truer words,” Athena interjects now. She sits tall at her throne and garners the attention of the King of the Gods. “May I remind you, Father, that I exist to help guide your decisions. Regardless of intent, if we want to prevent another war, then we should lend an ear to the demigods that fight on our behalf. Isn’t that right—”

Athena turns to Mars.

“—Guardian of Soldiers?” she asks. Mars quirks an eyebrow, evidently warmed by the title, and nods wholeheartedly.

“Alright, little war demigod,” he says, and he scoots to the edge of his seat and splays his knees. “Let’s hear it.”

Annabeth turns her head to Jason, urging him to continue.

“I don’t know where else Luke’s path could have gone,” Jason says—and he turns his attention back to Mercury. “Kronos fueled him with anger and hate—but that didn’t come out of nowhere. It…festered, sir. Just like the hate between the Greeks and the Romans.”

“And how do you propose we keep this from _festering_ , Jason Grace?” Hermes asks. His tone of voice is void of any emotion, and Jason’s skin crawls.

In that one string of words, he understands why Luke’s blood bristled at his father’s name. The gods could be callous. Death in itself was callous in nature—so maybe that was why every stroke of love from his father radiated easily with warmth, once Jason lifted the veil on his own frustrations.

“I…I don’t have a solution,” Jason admits.

“A promise,” Percy says for him, and he nudges Jason with an unexpected chivalry. “Every god needs to claim their child by the time they’re thirteen. That way they at least know they’re not lost or unwanted. If we’re fighting your wars for you, then we need to know why we’re doing it. We need to know that you actually give a damn about us.”

“You ask such a large request of us?” Zeus refutes, and his gaze narrows.

“Should be easy for you, little brother,” Pluto grumbles, “You’ve only been telling us about your children for the last century now.”

Zeus’s lips stretch into a vehement scowl. “I will _not_ be made a fool in front of my court, after so graciously summoning these demigods—”

“This isn’t your domain,” Nico interjects—and he steps forward this time. Zeus, once again interrupted by his children, looks nothing less than irritated. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he turns to Hera. “It’s Mammina’s.”

For the first time since their summons, the court is silent. Looks are exchanged not only between thrones, but by all of the demigods. Bianca looks to her brother, then to Jason in confusion, while Hera sits straighter in her seat, intrigued.

“Yo,” Leo grumbles, and he leans into Reyna. “Tell me Nico isn’t calling the Queen of the Gods _Mommy_ right now.”

Reyna looks too stunned to answer.

“Mammina,” Nico continues, and he gestures to everyone around him. “You played this gambit and swapped Annabeth and Reyna because you wanted your family to be reunited. You’re the Goddess of Family. By that title alone, you—I know you see _value_ in a demigod being able to have a connection with their godly parent. And you’re the Goddess of Marriage.”

Nico hesitates now, but Jason isn’t sure why.

“I know you know the power of a commitment,” Nico continues, “and what it means when you cannot get out of one. There shouldn’t be dread in _this_ commitment. There’s strength in family. Blood or otherwise.”

At those words, Jason sees Thalia smiling from the corner of his eye. Bianca has her gaze fixated on her brother, touched, and Nico stares at no one else but the Queen of the Gods.

The silence is near palpable. Hera stares in her combined Roman and Greek dress, taken in by her son’s words.

Of course, Zeus is the first to stir. “I will _not_ let one god decide the fate of my entire court—”

“My little sparrow is right,” Hera interjects, and she turns from her throne to face her husband. A disdain exists across her demeanor—one that Jason wouldn’t expect to see across her perfect face. “Marriage and family are symbols I chose for myself when my three brothers decided that the realms could only be split _three ways._ ”

Both Neptune and Pluto offer nervous looks. Demeter and Hestia roll their eyes.

Zeus gives his wife a withering stare. “You intend to decide the fate of Olympus in front of us? All by yourself?”

“I am Queen,” she reminds him, “and you certainly tried that yourself when you shut Olympus down. When you forced our brothers into an oath.”

Her expression grows solemn, and she turns to the di Angelo siblings once more.

“When you stole my children,” she continues, “and claim them as your own, husband.”

Another silence fills Olympus—and the shock registers across the face of every demigod around them. Nico has a grip tight around Hazel—but his grip is even tighter around Bianca. Thalia, Reyna, and Percy all look at each other, stunned.

Zeus growls, and suddenly the dispute among the gods turns into a marital one. “They have _my_ ichor, Hera.”

“And they have _my_ love, Husband,” Hera snaps. Her voice is rueful.

Jason knows that tone well. Annabeth had used it on him the day Luke died. He’s heard it in his own head in recurring nightmares about his lost love. He sees it now across Hera’s face, her demeanor breaking into a scowl echoed so well by her children. Once, by Bianca on the coast of Ogygia. Another, when Orion threatened to snap Nico’s big sister in two.

“A _mother’s_ love,” she continues, “A _parent’s_ love—something you don’t know how to exude because you’re too busy protecting your precious throne!”

“I am _King_ ,” Zeus snaps, and he towers over his wife at twelve-feet tall. “My rule keeps the world in order. If _anyone_ threatens to usurp my throne—”

“I am _Queen_ ,” Hera roars back. She grows just as tall, her scepter appearing at her side. Hera glowers at her husband dangerously. “Are you one to talk of your rule, when your own court is made up of _family_? Of _brothers_ and _sisters_ , and the children from your conquests?!”

“One could argue that nepotism is a bad thing,” Leo grumbles. He’s quickly ribbed by Frank. “Ow!”

“Mammina,” Bianca interjects—and her voice is sweet and tender. Unlike her father, Hera mollifies at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “He’s right—”

“There, listen to our daughter,” Zeus boasts—and Bianca offers the King of the God a hollow stare.

She pauses, staring at the God of Thunder, and exhales softly. “His ichor runs through us. He’s the reason Nico and I can shoot lightning and fly—but Nico’s right, too. _Family_ is blood or otherwise. Our family—”

She pauses, staring at Zeus, but his eyes and ears are above her reasoning.

“Our family was blessed by the King _and_ Queen of the Gods,” she finishes carefully. “So few others should _be_ so lucky. There are even those who join Lady Artemis to be claimed by _someone_ , when they’re not claimed by their parents. It’s a sad truth—that a god would fall in love with a mortal and _never_ claim their child—whether they’re allowed to or not.”

Again, another look passes between the di Angelo siblings to their mother.

Hera seems to bend at their will. She crosses her arms, one eyebrow lifted in the air, and studies both of her children—the ones who summoned her not even a day before, for the first time in decades.

“You think Olympus should consider Percy Jackson’s request,” she says finally. “That fewer wars would be waged if every child knew who their godly parent was by the age of thirteen.”

“If not sooner,” Percy grumbles—and he’s shushed by Reyna.

“Not just that,” Nico interjects—and suddenly, he turns to look at Jason. His gaze is so intense that Jason’s heart skips a beat. “The gods outside of Olympus must also be honored. Olympus is _lucky_ that Jason never went with Saturn. Hades is one of the Three Kings. His rule is so powerful that the fate of Olympus was tied to his son last year. Camp Halfblood has done _nothing_ _less_ than build him into a model hero.”

A flush creeps up Jason’s neck and glows in his cheeks.

“The honor of fighting for Olympus should be reward enough,” Zeus grumbles begrudgingly—and he’s ignored by all.

Neptune, if only to continue the trend, smiles with a mischief that echoes so much of his Greek self. “I wouldn’t know. We spent all of last year hearing you complain about your daughter.”

“Just last year?” Demeter grumbles. “How about we talk about the sexism in that prophecy? _Child of the_ **_Eldest_** _Gods_ , and yet our littlest brother thinks the chosen one should be _his_ child—”

“Who are you calling _little_?” Zeus admonishes.

“Your mouth is big enough, that’s for sure,” Pluto mutters—and this time, Percy is joined in his snickers by Thalia.

“Not his daughter—ma’am,” Bianca saves herself in address. She turns her head towards Jason, and the smile on her face weighs heavy on his heart. “Mammina—Jason has been at Camp Halfblood longer than any other demigod. He taught me how to use a sword and guided me on my first quest.”

“Ditto,” Annabeth agrees—and she places herself beside Bianca. They stare at each other for the first time, tentative—but the smiles are mirror images of each other. She addresses her own mother. “Jason’s been teaching swordfighting classes since he was _six,_ Mom. He’s a mentor to demigods in Cabin Eleven.”

“And he’s humble to a fault,” Reyna notes. She turns to face Jason now, and he’s reminded of every instance she looked into his eyes in search of her own memories. The intensity of her gaze is something he’s seen many times in Nico’s eyes. “For all the time I was at Camp Halfblood, he never called himself a leader or a head counsellor. Yet every camper at Camp Halfblood sees him as a hero.”

“Jason was there when I woke up,” Hazel agrees. She hesitates, before turning her attention back to the Queen. “With respect, Queen Hera, Jason saw fit to bring me to New Rome before the swap happened. He knew there were limits to what he could each me. I met my bro—your son because of Jason.”

“Your brother,” Nico reassures quietly—for none of the congregation to hear. “Nothing changes that.”

Hazel blushes at that, leaning into the warmth of her sibling.

“Jason’s…also the one who pulled me into the Seven, Tia Callida,” Leo suddenly says, and he offers a speculative glance in Jason’s direction. “Seriously—I was just minding my own business in my weapon’s booth and he plucked me to help calm a giant mechanical dragon.”

“Uh,” Jason mutters, and his cheeks glow a darker shade of red, “sorry about that.”

“Are you kidding? We wouldn’t have a _ship_ without you, man.” The edge of Leo’s lips etches into an elfish smile and he points to Jason. “Look at this guy. Humble to a fault is _right._ How many other kids get to say that their best friend is a giant automaton dragon?”

Of all the gods, Vulcan is the only one who cheers.

“Mammina.” Nico’s hand flies to Jason from nowhere, his fingers curling around Jason’s shoulder. “You started this quest to reunite your two families. Jason and Thalia—they’re your family, too. Their father is your brother. I…I don’t know what would’ve happened to me, if Thalia hadn’t found me. If Percy and Reyna didn’t have a hand in raising me. Maybe I would’ve ended up with Bianca—”

He pauses, sparing his sister a glance.

“—but there’s no telling if that would’ve been the case. That we would be together now,” he finishes. “Jason deserves to be honored. Their dad _needs_ to be honored. It’s long overdue.”

His last sentence echoes through the court, poignant, and all eyes fall to the son of the Queen. Under the eyes of thirteen gods, Nico is indifferent—and so becomes the gaze of his siblings and is allies, as well.

“You raised a fine son, Hera,” Hades notes, which offers reprieve in the tension amongst the gods.

Zeus reanimates, his lips contorting into a frown. “My son, I see twice now this year. He has the nerve to ask Olympus outlandish requests and deny a gift of immortality—”

“ _I’m not your son_ ,” Nico snaps—and he points a finger furiously at the King of the Gods. “I was _never_ your son. Bianca and my lives—they were never yours to take. You have _one_ daughter in this world, and _you_ have the _gall_ to take her out her hospital bed _moments_ after waking up from _your_ threat!”

“ _Nico_ ,” Bianca starts. At first, Jason isn’t sure if she’s reprimanding him—but then he realizes she’s just as stunned as the rest of the assembly. Looking around the room, Jason sees Percy hiding a grin beneath his palm, and Reyna trying to blink through her poise.

Much like Jason’s dream, the clouds above Zeus coil. His gaze storms with rage, and he marches forward, shrinking to the size of a mortal until he’s only a breath away from Nico. “So long as you are _mine_ to claim, and my _ichor_ runs through your veins, then you are _my_ son.”

Nico doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t waver, and his demeanor is stoic. Percy’s sword is unsheathed. Thalia’s mace canister is unveiled. Jason’s hand flies to Nico’s arm, ready to shadowtravel them out of Olympus like every fight or flight instinct that’s shot through him since the start of this quest, but Nico continues onward.

“Then I’ll fight as her champion instead,” Nico says, his voice even as he gestures to his godly mother. “The same way Hazel fights as Hecate’s, or the way Bianca swore herself to Artemis, or Hylla to the Amazons. You can’t take that agency from me.”

“You _insolent_ boy—” Zeus rambles—and then he whirls around and stares at Hera expectantly. “Are you going to do something about this?”

“My apologies,” Hera says with deadpan—but her eyes betray her tone. They glitter with a mixture of amusement and pride. “His sass is from his mother’s side. This speak of ultimatum, however—I believe that’s all his father. An annoying quality, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not my father,” Nico dismisses. “He was never my father.”

Zeus turns red with rage. His hands spark with electricity, ready to _strike_ Nico through wounded pride alone—but then he’s pulled back, bound to his feet.

“You’re right, my sweet. This is a _family_ matter,” Hera agrees. She remains at her feet, while Zeus is locked in his chair, snarling. At mortal height, he looks like a small child sitting at the Adult table. Her smile is matched by her children, and she walks the length of the throne room. She halts her trek in front of Jason.

It wasn’t too long ago that she stared at him dismissively and criticized his state of dress. Now, Jason has her full focus.

“My son has requested that I lend you my ear, Jason Grace,” Hera notes. “A year ago, you came to this throne room after slaying Kronos. What was it that my husband rewarded you?”

Jason’s so disconcerted he’s not sure what to say. “Um—the door, Queen Hera.”

“Yes, that certainly sounds like him,” Hera agrees, and her peacock cape billows behind her. She eyes her husband with ire, then turns back to him with patience. “Very well then. How would you like to be honored, nephew? Immortality? Godhood?”

“No,” Jason says almost automatically, and it only urges Hera’s other eyebrow to arch in the air. “I—frankly, Queen Hera, I…I’ve already been given the best gift I could receive. A sister.”

Someone out there who made sure Jason didn’t feel alone in this world. Who loved him long before a prophecy took over his life. He catches Thalia’s attention and notices her smile. Behind her, their father also smiles, looking pleased by his answer, and Jason’s confidence catches up with him. He swallows hard while Hera takes his answer—no more displeased or amused.

“But,” Jason says with a newfound confidence and steady voice, “I…take pride in being my father’s son as much as Nico and Bianca take pride in being your children. I’m…not the only one who feels that way. I’ve…seen a lot of demigods go through Hermes Cabin—either claimed or passed over.”

“So what would you like to do with that information?” Hera urges—her voice filled with more patience than expected.

“We have to honor _all_ the gods. Not just the Twelve Olympians,” Jason says. “Cabins and statues for the gods and their children. A place where they can feel like they belong.”

“Action figures,” Percy interjects. “And trading cards. Nothing bogus, like Mythomagic—”

Nico nudges him sharply, and Percy smiles sheepishly.

Hera weighs Jason’s words. She hums softly and stands tall at seven feet. She turns to address the court, including her pouting husband. “A family decision requires a family agreement. All in favor of supporting this decision?”

She glares at them in a way only a matriarch could—with a look that says _don’t choose wrong._

Hades’s hand is first to raise, along with the approving smile on his face. Of the thirteen gods, eleven more follow in suit.

“Beth can design the cabins,” Percy suggests out of nowhere—and all eyes turn to Annabeth, who startles at his claim. “She wants to be an architect. Her designs rule.”

Annabeth glows with a radiance now, and the amusement is felt by the court.

“What a wise decision, Percy Jackson,” Athena notes. “I take it you inherited your mother’s intelligence.”

Percy smiles humbly at the claim, and Annabeth mutters something teasing to him.

“Very well,” Hera announces, and she addresses the court once more. “And this decision by Percy Jackson—for all demigods to be claimed by the age of thirteen. Are we in agreement?”

This decision is met with less hands—but majority still wins.

“That’s not enough, Mammina,” Nico urges, and he raises his gaze to his godly mother. “This isn’t just one decision in Olympus. It’s a commitment moving forward. It must be binding.”

Hera arches a wary eyebrow. “And how do you intend to _bind_ us to this request, my sweet? The floor is yours.”

“An oath,” Nico says. “Swear on it. On the River Styx.”

This time, more gods look reluctant to follow in suit. Zeus puffs at his seat, looking smug. “There are limits to your requests, boy. Now quit counting your eggs before they hatch.”

Nico looks ready to punch the King of the Gods upside the jaw—proof of his upbringing between Thalia and Percy. It’s Reyna who speaks next, after looking between Annabeth and Frank.

“I think,” she says slowly, “that above all else, we can agree that the main concern is how many wars have been fought in the last two years alone. Prophecies cannot be prevented—but we should do everything we can to keep peace. Jason is right. _All_ of us prosper in a time of peace. If these measures help protect the throne of Olympus, wouldn’t we want to take as many measures as we can?”

Athena tuts as she did before, scrutinizing Reyna with curiosity. “You speak up against battle, Daughter of War?”

“I speak up against unnecessary bloodshed,” Reyna corrects, “as one of three Children of War standing before you, Lady Athena. Times have changed. Your statue has been returned to the Greeks. My mother—she doesn’t exist to the Greeks, but it took the effort of both pantheons to defeat Gaea.”

“Why have more bloodshed?” Frank asks, his voice soft. He stares at his father gently. “Mom was brave, Dad—but she didn’t lay her life down for nothing. She was fighting to save her troop. For peace.”

Both Mars and Athena look at each other, skeptical.

“Look, Kid,” Mars says, his voice raw. “Mankind is repetitive. There’s no guarantee that they _won’t_ do battle again, we’ve been doing it for thousands of years now—”

“So take the pre-emptive measures,” Percy retorts—and there’s an irate look between Mars and himself. “Prolong it as long as we can. The Romans may train for battle, but we’re not just soldiers. We’re your kids. Some of us die without ever knowing who we’re fighting for. You’re _lucky_ Jason never turned on Olympus. Do you want to wait until you’re _lucky_ again?”

Looks are exchanged between the gods one again. Slowly, one-by-one, more hands raise into the air. It isn’t a clean sweep—but it’s far more than Jason ever expected to be considered by the gods of Olympus.

“Very well,” Zeus grumbles, though his voice still sparks with irritation and anger. “We, the Gods of Olympus, swear by the River Styx that all demigod children will be claimed by their godly parent.”

He glares at Nico specifically.

“Happy?” Zeus asks.

“It’s a start,” Nico replies—and the edge of his lip twitches.

“And you, Jason Grace—” Hera glares at her husband, her counsel ceased unfairly. “—you will get your own cabin. Every child who comes to Camp Halfblood will find a home under the name of their godly parent, and statues will be erected in their parents’ name.”

Jason’s shoulders heave. He stares at the Queen of the Gods in disbelief, his hands numb at his side.

“I cannot guarantee there won’t come another time where your services are needed,” she warns—and her gaze narrows. “But hopefully these two wishes will help prolong that time. Would you like to say anything else to the court, son of Hades?”

“I.” Jason’s voice is distant to himself. “No. No ma’am, I. I don’t know if I have any other words for the court.”

A hand presses against his shoulder—and Jason comes to the realization that Nico and he never quite let go of each other. As he looks up, he’s met with Nico’s azure blue eyes—and an earnest smile. Jason’s hands shake at his sides—but for the first time, it’s out of elation instead of fear.

Jason’s heart spills with such excitement that he rolls onto the balls of his feet and sweeps Nico into a bone-crushing hug.

There’s a yelp, as Nico’s lifted into the air, and Jason buries his nose into the crook of Nico’s neck, pulse against his cheek.

“Thank you,” Jason whispers, and there’s more warmth against his skin. There’s a thousand other emotions running through his chest, filling him with the same joy.

Nico’s tense beneath his bind—but slowly, he melts, and returns the hug. “Nothing that shouldn’t have been done a long time ago.”

Hera hums with satisfaction and returns to her throne. “Well, if there aren’t any other outstanding issues that you demigods would like to discuss, I believe that we’re done here.”

“There’s still one more matter to discuss,” Athena interjects, and she’s cautious in her wording. Her eyes raise tentatively to meet Hera, then Zeus’s. Slowly, she gestures to Bianca. “This one’s time passed a year prior. She is alive now because she passed through the Doors of Death.”

The air bristles, and Nico is tense under Jason’s grip. They pull away from each other and watches as Bianca grows prickly beneath the gaze of Olympus. She turns to meet Nico’s gaze, and there’s nothing but softness passed between the di Angelo siblings.

Slowly, Bianca turns to look at Jason, then presents herself to the gods in front of her. To Hades.

“It’s true,” Bianca admits softly. “I passed through the Doors of Death before they were closed in Epirus.”

Hades strokes his chin, staring somberly at her. “Yes. I recall you died not too long before your sixteenth birthday.”

“Gone too soon,” Zeus grumbles—yet again reiterating their conversation from last year.

“But I called her down to Tartarus,” Jason interjects, surprising even himself. It was just a few hours ago that he promised to take Bianca down to the Underworld. Now that feels like the worse option. He stands firm with his words. “Dad—Bianca didn’t break any rules. Not on her own. She’d still be down there if I hadn’t—if I hadn’t needed her.”

“But to have an oath,” Athena weighs, her lips curling into a disapproving frown, “and then to have so many children of the Big Three running around. Is this something we’re truly okay with?”

“I’d say you should feel _better_ after making those promises, at least,” Percy mutters—and this time, Athena looks less impressed by his words.

“This quest wouldn’t have been possible without Bianca, Dad,” Jason continues, not allowing time for the Goddess of Wisdom to reprimand Percy. “Nico and I were running on fumes by the time we left France. We were in bad shape. Without Bianca, Mrs. O’Leary wouldn’t have—”

Shown up where Bianca exited. Jason halts. He runs what Bianca told him about her resurrection when they came to Disney World. Mrs. O’Leary was already _nearby_ when Bianca came out of the Doors.

Hades had given them Orion’s name—aiding them a _second time_ on this quest _._

Jason locks his with his father, his jaw falling while the edge of Hades’s lips twitch.

“Mrs. O’Leary?” Athena repeats, and she arches an eyebrow. “Go on, cousin. Finish your sentence.”

“I.” Jason can’t. He stares at his father now, too stunned to speak.

“Rarely do I ever get to see my son speak so passionately,” Hades says. He sits up in his stool and folds his arms over his chest, before slowly turning to address Bianca. Bianca flinches under his gaze, while Hades remains as quiet as a corpse. “I believe the Gods have already tried to manipulate this girl’s destiny many times before.”

He turns to Zeus.

“Taking her from her life and bringing her to the Lotus Casino, for the Great Prophecy,” Hades says. Then he turns to Hera. “Hiding her in Ogygia. Then—of course, forcing her to come back and steer her towards the end of our father. Neptune is right. Gods are merely meant to help guide. The Fates steer.”

Hades eyes Bianca carefully, and she soaks in his words, one-by-one, shrinking less and less.

“If all it took was one plea from my son, then the Fates have something else in mind for you,” Hades finishes. “My kingdom awaits you in final death, Bianca di Angelo, but I will not _force_ your path. You’ve already had enough of that from your parents already.”

Bianca’s hand flies to her mouth. Her eyes swell with tears as she turns to face her brother, and her expression is mirrored by Nico.

Jason stands with bated breath. He stares back at his father—who not even a year ago denied his request about Luke. The weight of this one, however—feels lighter.

“So Bianca gets to live?” Nico asks, his voice distant.

“All deaths happen in due time,” Hades says, and he nods slowly. “Who am I to break up a family reunion with my two children close to me?”

Jason thinks he’d hug his dad right now if they weren’t so far away from each other. Instead, Thalia slinks an arm around him, a smile proud across her lips.

“You big softie,” she mutters—with her eyes shining than the brightest gems for their dad.

“A wise choice, brother,” Zeus notes—though he keeps a poor poker face.

Hades eyes him carefully. “A wise choice for our niece indeed.”

Zeus glares irritably and sulks in his seat, as Hera smiles, triumphant.

“It seems you are alive again, sister,” Artemis notes—and she takes Bianca’s intention now, curious at her seat. “What will you do with that path?”

Jason feels his chest tightens. Bianca’s demeanor falls ever-so slightly…then she stands tall at her feet. She looks to him, first—then to her brother, a hidden message passed between them. Nico looks as tense as Jason feels—but it’s a path neither are able to walk for Bianca.

“Lady Artemis,” she starts slowly, “I’ve…been known as a daughter of Zeus, and as one of your huntresses. Since I fell in battle, I…I believe my time by your side has ended. I’d like to see what my time as a daughter of Hera looks like.”

She turns, facing Nico one more time, and Jason watches as Nico’s hands fall from across his chest.

“Time with my brother,” she says softly, “and time with my new sister.”

Artemis stares at her old huntress warily. “And this is what you want?”

“Please,” Bianca begs softly. “I don’t intend to ever have a day without my brother again.”

Artemis studies her carefully, face void of any obvious emotion. Jason watches as Nico stares on with bated breath, his hands twitching at his sides.

“An oath fulfilled is an oath completed,” Artemis says finally. “You are no longer bound to me, sister. But know that there will always be a place for you with my huntresses, should you change your mind.”

A sigh of relief spills from Bianca’s lips. She turns once again to face Nico, her eyes glassy, and smiling. Nico looks back, speechless.

“Do tell me you’re done with these requests,” Zeus grumbles unhappily, arms crossed over his chest. 

Bianca pauses before she makes the strides back to her siblings. Jason knows exactly why. 

“You and she can finish up this game of cat and mouse,” Nico mutters told him numbly—and Jason pauses. 

“What?” He asks. 

“Yes,” Bianca says finally, and she tentatively looks back at the Queen of the Gods. 

“I was kidding,” Zeus says with deadpan. 

“Well,” Neptune remarks lightly, “you _are_ a joke.” 

The King of the Gods scowls, lightning steaming from his ears—but he’s not the center of attention anymore. 

“You sent me to Ogygia once, Mammina—“

“You just told the court of Olympus that you wish to spend the rest of your days with your brother,” Hera reminds her.

“I intend to,” Bianca reassures, and she chews on her bottom lip. “But please. Calypso, she’s been imprisoned on that island for far too long. The first war with the Titans—if the Gods are turning over a new leaf—please consider letting her free, too.”

“Calypso?” Nico repeats under his breath—and he turns to look at Jason for confirmation.

Zeus stares at Bianca hollowly, his expression filled with nothing but disdain. “We’ve had this conversation _before_ , daughter. She and her father stood in the place of my throne. She is meant to be punished accordingly.”

Bianca stares back at him, garnering some of the same wit and ire of her brother. She smooths out her skirt and looks to her father instead, hopeful. “Mammina, Nico and I are proof that we’re not all reflections of our fathers—” Zeus glares once again. “Her punishment was for a war that was _ages_ ago. Today we discuss ways to overturn and prevent _new_ wars. Continuing her punishment does—does nothing.”

Hera contemplates her words—but Zeus narrows his gaze, dissatisfied.

“Her punishment is absolute,” Zeus denies, and he stares at her with disdain. “She is to stay on that island and never know the love of a man. Her heart will break a thousand times—a punishment worse than death.”

Aphrodite nods wholeheartedly at the statement.

“A garish punishment, that’s for sure,” Hades grumbles under his breath.

“She didn’t fall in love with a man,” Bianca says, her voice tight. “She…she fell in love with _me._ I was never going to leave. Mammina—you know what it’s like to be with someone and then have them taken away from you. I—I know you do.”

“You speak of this request as though asking your mother to squash a bug,” Zeus retorts. “This decision requires the agreement of the court. Just because you’ve received agreement on your other decisions does not mean this one will be overturned so easily, daughter.”

Jason makes a face—which, to his surprise, actually goes noticed.

“What?” Zeus asks, his voice loud and booming. Jason jumps at the sound of it.

“Ah,” Jason replies, and he quickly looks over to the twelfth throne—Mr. D’s. “Sorry, sir. I’ve…spent my life listening to Mr. D—Dionysus’s punishment. I couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a unanimous decision as well.”

“What punishment?” Percy suddenly asks—and Annabeth takes the time to whisper it in his ear. He makes a face, looking like he’s holding back a laugh.

The rest of the court stares on awkwardly, however, and Jason wonders if he’s spoken out of turn for the first time with Olympus.

Mr. D rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically. He opens up a can of Diet Pepsi. “Consider my punishment more of a _grounding_ , dear boy.”

“By limiting the powers of one of the thrones of Olympus?” Percy muses. He’s far cheekier in his observation than the rest of the demigods.

“Seriously—Bacchus is the God of Parties,” Leo jests, and he waves his hand next to Frank. “You telling me after all the ass-kissing we did, we’re not gonna have one of those to finish out this war?”

Zeus glares vehemently at the two Roman demigods—with nothing to be saved from their parents. “ _My_ punishment is merited.”

“ _Your_ decision almost cost us both wars,” Hera retorts.

“Queen Juno,” Reyna interrupts, before the conversation is lost. She stands beside Bianca now, who looks puzzled by her interruption. “Thalia and I—we have a philosophy at Camp Jupiter. We don’t judge people by their pasts, but the merits of their actions. Calypso has spent millennia time and time again nursing back heroes to health. Heroes like your daughter.”

“If her character is as bad as Zeus says, then enact a new punishment. Put her back on the island,” Thalia agrees—and she gives a startled Bianca a reassuring squeeze. “But going about campers this way is how we have ol’ Kelp Brain and Frank here. They helped against Gaea’s defeat.”

Bianca stares between the two of them, unsure of what to say.

“If we didn’t go by that,” Percy agrees, and he ribs Nico gently, “your son would’ve been as _son of Jupiter_ as you can get. Thalia and I would’ve never seen Nico.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to move forward,” Nico agrees, and he stares at Juno, pleading.

Bianca stares at all three of them, taken aback by the support received by all. Her cheeks glow a subtle pink, and she stares just as hopefully at their mother.

“In the spirit of moving forward,” Juno says eventually, her gaze narrowed, “I believe there is no harm in…a _probationary_ period. We will reassess the merits of her character, now that her father is in Tartarus, and find a more suitable punishment should it be needed.”

Bianca’s shoulders fall. She stares in awe.

Zeus glares at her vehemently, the lightning still crackling out of his ears. “You think I’ll let you overturn one of my decisions, wife?”

“Perhaps we should try something new,” Neptune proposes. “Considering our brother’s last few decisions in the past centuries have resulted in a war.”

Before Zeus can bite his brother’s head off, eight more hands rise in agreement. Zeus stares around the room, offended.

“A family decision requires a family agreement,” Juno declares. “And it appears most of us are in agreement to ease the punishment for Atlas’s daughter.”

She waves her hand—and pauses.

“This will be the last request Olympus makes for you today, Heroes,” Juno says—and her voice is gentle. “Continue to make us proud. Your _family_.”

Thalia slings an arm around Jason, in a bone-crushing hug of her own.

The last thing Jason sees is the content smile across his father’s face—and then they disappear.

*

They reappear to burning wood at the center of Camp Halfblood’s campfire. The windows of each cabin glows with an orange radiance, while the steep headquarters the New Romans made for themselves shines off in the distance.

There’s a blend of purple and orange shirts now, walking about the length of Camp Halfblood. Jason sees Connor and Travis playing poker with a pair of New Romans that have the same upturned smile and grin. Dakota and Pollux are nursing a six pack of Capri Sun. Piper is wedged somewhere, discussing something with the barrel-armed Son of Venus.

When the ten of them arrive, all activities stop. The campfire songs cease, and all eyes fall to them. There are a few gasps, and Bianca’s name is murmured a few times.

Looking over, Jason notices Hazel supported carefully by both the di Angelo siblings, while Leo is leaning into Frank. Reyna and Annabeth exchange looks—and matching smiles appear across their faces. 

“Olympus has spoken,” Annabeth announces. “Every demigod will now be claimed by the time they’re thirteen! New cabins will be erected in the name of godly parents outside of Olympus. And—”

“And our families are blended now,” Reyna finishes. “There will no longer be a feud between the Greeks and Romans. We stand together as one. “

The camp erupts into cheers.

Jason lets out another breath—one that lifts the weight of many years off his shoulders, while campfire songs continue. He wobbles, as he notices that Thalia’s arm is still around him and smiles as he sees the warmth of her eyes under the campfire.

“One family,” Jason echoes—and Thalia throws him into a headlock with an animated laugh.

“One family,” she agrees.

“Thalia,” Nico suddenly says—and they pull away from their hug. They’re greeted with the sight of the di Angelo siblings, hand-by-hand. Standing beside each other, there’s no difficulty telling they’re related—the same azure blue eyes and dark locks, and same frame. Even the smiles on their faces are near identical. “I’d like you to meet my big sister. My _other_ big sister.”

Thalia’s eyes brim with warmth. “Nice to meet you, other big sister.”

She reaches out for a handshake—and Bianca gleefully bounces before throwing her arms around other demigod.

“Thank you,” Bianca whispers softly, “for taking care of my brother.”

Thalia looks to her, bewildered—but the corner of her lip etches into a smile, her dark eyes glossing over with tears. “Right back at you, Bianca.”

She laughs for a moment, as Bianca squeals in her ear. Jason looks over and watches Nico’s own excitement.

“You sure she’s _big sister_?” Percy suddenly muses—which causes both demigods to pull away from each other. He slings an arm around Nico, nearly knocking the shorter demigod off his feet. “You two look like you could be twins. Jason could squat three of you on each side of the bar.”

Jason’s lips lift with mild amusement, while Bianca stares at him curiously.

“So you’re Percy,” she says—and only that.

“And you’re Bianca,” Percy says profoundly. His demeanor softens, and he extends an amicable hand. “I’ve heard stories.”

Bianca’s gaze falls to his hand slowly, and she meets it with her own. A smile curls against her lips. “All good, I hope.”

“Entertaining,” Percy reassures—and again, Bianca evidently doesn’t know what to do with that. She studies his hand, trying to find an answer.

“I wouldn’t shake it either,” Nico mutters. “There’s no guarantee he’s showered.”

“Hey!”

“You’ll get used to their antics,” Reyna assures—emerging from elsewhere. She ribs Percy gently and rolls her eyes. “Will you ever understand them is another question entirely.”

“The other, _other_ big sister,” Bianca notes slowly, and she lowers her head at her count. Reyna warms at the name and slinks over to Thalia’s side, arm around her girlfriend’s waist.

Finally, Hazel appears, leaning up against Frank after having disappears. She wobbles on her crutches and Bianca stands taller. They study each other—and slowly, Hazel’s lips press into a smile. 

“Hey, Sis,” she says softly—and Bianca grins back. 

“Hi, Sis,” she whispers back. 

A flower crown suddenly sprouts around Bianca’s head. She startles, as the vines appear around her temple, and the lilies bloom beautifully. 

“Is...that normal?” Hazel asks, one eyebrow arched in the air. 

“No,” Bianca admits. Her grin is giddy as she turns around. 

The masses part, and at the other end of the campfire stands the same girl from Jason’s dream, dressed in a Grecian gown with a matching flower crown of her own. 

Bianca floats with joy—but she stops in front of Nico, first. 

Nico stares, mystified at first, but nods in agreement. He smiles with encouragement. “I expect a full introduction in the morning.” 

She hugs her brother—then a startled Jason—and zips to the edge of the hearth to meet Calypso with full embrace. 

“I’m getting an idea how close the two of you were,” Thalia suddenly muses, nudging Jason’s arm. “You’re both hug first and talk later, huh?” 

Jason flushes, and Nico frowns. Under the darkness of the evening and the embers of the flame, it’s hard to discern the color of his face. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nico asks. 

“Percy!” Annabeth interjects, and she grabs the son of Neptune by the arm. “Come sing some campfire songs with my brothers and sisters! Malcolm wants to meet you!” 

“Who?” Percy asks—and he’s quick to be dragged off. 

After that, everyone seems to pair off. Percy sits nestled with the Athena Cabin and parts of what Jason can only assume is the Fifth Cohort. Hazel leans against Frank, her crutches set to one side and Leo on the other, catching up with Piper “Beauty Queen” McLean. Thalia and Reyna sit on the other side of the fire, roasting marshmallows and cuddling beneath the east coast breeze. All the while, Calypso and Bianca seem happy far off in the distance at the hilltop where Jason and she once separated.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” Nico notes, one eyebrow arched in the air beside Jason. The warmth of the fire helps paint the silhouette of his smile—a far cry from the scowl that met Jason months ago. 

Thalia’s right. Jason would hug Nico all over again without question. Instead, he offers a hand and a mirrored smile. 

“I’ll teach you how to sing _The Wheels on the Bus Go BOOM CRASH KILL,”_ Jason says, and Nico laughs with disbelief. 

He grabs Jason’s hand without a second thought.

*

Towards the end of the night, people start retreating to cabins. Annabeth is claimed by her siblings, who haven’t seen her since the end of the first war. Thalia and Reyna retreat to the praetor’s tent, and Frank helps Hazel hobble back to the infirmary, while Leo nods off with his new family from Cabin Nine. 

“Think I’m gonna catch some Z’s in the Neptune Cabin,” Percy notes. He sidles up beside Nico, while Jason busies himself cleaning up candy wrappers and discarded sticks beside the hearth. “This place is nice, Grace. It’s...close. To my mom’s place. Real close.” 

Jason looks up from across the hearth and is met with a curious look from Percy Jackson, who looks like he could still go a couple more days without sleep, laidback as a tide in the ocean now that he’s with his friends. 

“You mean Poseidon Cabin,” Nico corrects, and Percy shrugs. 

“Until I somehow magically get a Greek brother or sister like you and Grace over there, I think I can call it what I want,” Percy disagrees. He’s met with Nico rolling his eyes, and only grins. He collects himself to his feet and offers a hand. “Need a place to crash?” 

“Not yet.” Nico shakes his head—and to Jason’s surprise, Nico looks to him. 

Percy looks between the two of them but says nothing. He shrugs. “Fine. This means I get to push the beds together.” 

And eventually, he leaves too. All that’s left is the snaps of the tinder at the hearth. Jason gathers what he can of the trash, while Nico’s eyes follow him. 

“Do you ever get tired of working?” Nico asks. 

“I usually fall asleep when I do,” Jason replies. He rubs the slumber of his eyes and makes a mental note to retire to the medbay. They should have an accurate count of bodies by the morning. Soon, Jason would be lighting pyres and helping with the funeral rites all over again, and—

“Do the nightmares end in Camp Halfblood?” Nico asks out of nowhere. Yesterday, Jason would’ve stumbled at the inquiry. Instead, he looks up, and Nico’s look hasn’t changed. Despite how busy they’d gotten in the hours after the war, Nico has pushed that aside for him. 

Jason shakes his head. He pushes hair out of his face—fringe that’s grown long since falling into Tartarus. Instead of reluctance, however, he speaks with ease. 

“They start at Camp Halfblood,” Jason says, and he rubs his forehead before slowly rounding the hearth. Nico makes room for him on the log, beneath the stars. “They’ve...always started at Camp Halfblood. Even before Luke.” 

Jason can see himself easily at the age of four, singing campfire songs quietly with Grover by his side. Then six, seven, and eight—where his smile grew with his heart when he got to lean into Luke’s warmth and be a kid with Annabeth. Eleven, twelve, and thirteen with Bianca and Annabeth between quests, enjoying each other’s company and relishing in the fact they’re alive. Sixteen, feeling hollow and covered in someone else’s blood while everyone else around him tried to recover some sense of normal. 

Right now, he thinks sitting beside Nico, beneath the stars and beside the hearth of a place he’s called his home for fourteen years is his favorite. Jason can breathe—and all he smells is the warmth of the flickering wood while he relishes in Nico’s company one last time this evening. 

This time, Nico’s the one to offer him a hand. Jason stares at it curiously. 

“If I don’t walk you to your cabin you’re just going to go back to work,” Nico points out, and Jason smiles sheepishly. 

“Guilty,” Jason admits. Nico doesn’t put his hand down until Jason takes it. 

They walk—but Nico doesn’t even bat an eye at Cabin Eleven. Out of reflex, Nico makes his way to the biggest and shiniest cabin—but stops short of opening the door. 

“If I open this door,” Nico says, “is there going to be a statue of Zeus?” 

Jason bites back a laugh. Then slowly, he nods while Nico sighs. Suddenly, Nico raises his head to the left. His hard expression weathers, and he gestures to another cabin. 

“And that one?” Nico asks. 

“Different kind of statue,” Jason says—and they move towards it without an extra word. Anything is better than the Hippie Zeus in Cabin One, apparently. 

Hera’s Cabin is smaller than her husband’s. The marble columns are more refined and polished, with the warmth of a brazier sitting in front of an altar. Jason’s entered Cabin Two a few times over the years, always unearthed by the stoic, perfect statue of the Mother Goddess behind the hearth. 

This time, however, there’s a more human quality to the smile across her face. The room is decorated in vines of pomegranates and lilies, as though they were still sitting in Olympus itself. Nico exhales a short sigh—then makes a face. The air is stale from years of disuse. 

“Sorry,” Jason apologizes, his voice a quiet mumble. “Not a lot of people visit, aside from the cleaning harpies. Bianca had a love-hate relationship with her before death, too.” 

Nico takes in the words, his demeanor unchanging. “So people won’t bother us in the morning?” 

“Well, no—”

“Good.” Nico surveys the length of the dainty cabin and manages to find a blanket and some pillows. He placed them at the foot of the altar and plops to the floor, exhaustion settling across his features. He stares upward expectantly. “We deserve some rest, don’t we?” 

On cue, Jason yawns. He stares at Nico now, as the other demigod busies himself with untying both of his shoes. Slowly, he does the same and settles beside Nico underneath the altar. The warmth of Hera’s brazier is different from the hearth at the center of camp—but the oranges against the walls are mesmerizing. 

Jason settles in beside Nico, and the exhaustion hits him like a sack of bricks. 

“Sleep,” Nico murmurs quietly. Through the darkness of the cabin, his finger hooks into Jason’s. “I know better than to beat you there.” 

With one final, breathy laugh, Jason shuts his eyes. He falls asleep beside Nico di Angelo, son of Juno, Goddess of Marriage and Family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to try and squeeze one last update in before the end of the year! This one ended up bleeding a little longer guys, but I hope you enjoyed watching me reinvent the wheel known as PJO's conclusion. 2020 has been a wild ride, and hopefully 2021 will have more fun with the boys with us! I will let you guys know more about the sequel with the next update, but for now, Happy New Year's!! As we come towards the end, I'd love to hear your favorite parts of the story (but I think you guys will be happy with the last update for Dearly Departed as well!) Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me for this story for 2020!


	18. son of juno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m a son of Apollo,” Will elaborates—and he rolls his eyes, pushing past both Jason and Nico to start scanning Mellie’s vitals. “Listen—you’ve got your lightning and swordfighting, but that ends before you enter _my_ infirmary. What makes you think you’re an expert?”
> 
> Mellie keens again, and Coach Hedge holds her hand between his shaky, hairy fists.
> 
> “Her contractions are getting closer together,” Nico says, before Will can pull out a watch. “I’d guess she’s almost fully dilated.”
> 
> Will stares at him—equal parts impressed and confused.
> 
> “Nico di Angelo, son of Juno,” Nico introduces. “I’d shake your hand, but I need them to deliver.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the last chapter of Dearly Departed, guys!! Can you believe what a ride it's been?! Before we get started, I wanted to give a big thanks to ariihen, who is a big reason why this story first came to fruition! She's graced us with two more art pieces before the end [here](https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/639531680763346944/you-look-like-you-havent-slept-in-days-nico) and [here](https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/639380658178932736/whoevers-holding-his-hand-gives-it-a-soft), which are two of my favorite moments in the story! I really hope you guys enjoy this final ride! And don't worry--there this should give you a good idea of where the sequel is headed!! Please enjoy!

Jason wakes at dawn, like every other morning at Camp Halfblood. His eyes raise to the marbled ceiling of Hera’s Cabin, where a mural of the marriage between King and Queen of the Heavens hangs. Three hundred years of celebration and happiness between the two gods.

Decades of silence, interrupted by the demigod curled up into a ball at the foot of Hera’s altar. 

The last time Jason woke up in Camp Halfblood, he went on a run to dispel his own nightmares before they could haunt him in the day. It’d been his routine since his birthday—trying to push that day away to the back corners of his mind. He’s seen worse since then. 

Waking up next to Nico is a different change of pace compared to running. Nico talks in his sleep. Jason saw a glimpse of it while they were in France, but without the threat of war—

“Percy,” Nico mutters under his breath, “shut up.” 

—the string of words is a lot more amicable. Jason sits up—shockingly well rested despite sleeping on marbled floors. He pulls the blanket over Nico’s shoulder and relishes in...something. 

Nico has a smaller frame than Luke ever did. His eyes are a more vibrant blue that put both Hermes and Apollo to shame, and he had dark hair that grew far longer than Luke ever cared. Nico wasn’t Luke—he never would be. But Jason’s chest has never felt light like this, with Nico. There’s no weight on his shoulders. 

From the corner of his eyes, he notices the statue of Hera guarding her son from above. Her gaze is eloquent and poised, focusing on no one but her own family. Jason’s learned not to expect anything from her. 

Soon enough, Annabeth and he would be going through schematics to design his father’s cabin. Jason would have a place that he could call home and—go back to his normal routine. Help counsel kids past the trauma of a second war. Help with everything around Camp Halfblood, like keeping the place around Hestia’s hearth clean and nursing the occasional demigod back to health.

His _normal_ routine. Jason is tired again just thinking about it.

He spares Nico one last glance and rises from Cabin Two.

“Hey, baby brother.” Thalia waves at him from the porch of Cabin Three—dressed in her usual regale of black skinny jeans, Camp Jupiter t-shirt, and a jacket filled with several patches with bands on them.

He smiles at her, heart full, and makes the short trek over.

“You spent the night in Juno—in Hera’s Cabin?” she asks, one eyebrow arched in the air.

“Nico insisted,” Jason explains—though that doesn’t make her look any less amused.

“You found that sweet boy I told you about,” Thalia speculates—and then her demeanor softens. She props herself against him and inspects Jason. “Nightmares?” 

“Not last night,” Jason assures, and he smiles quaintly in his sister’s direction. “What about you and Reyna?” 

“Not last night,” Thalia echoes. She settles beside him on the porch, eyes inspecting the cabins that are lined out in the same Reverse U as the throne room yesterday. “I’ve never slept well after battle. All of the soldiers that have fallen—”

“They haunt you,” Jason finishes for her absentmindedly. “Sometimes the dead are as restless as the living. They’re still wandering around until they can settle into the afterlife.”

Thalia studies him carefully and pushes the coffee cup in his direction. From the steam alone, Jason can smell all sorts of chocolate and creamer. In the tiny sip hole, Thalia’s beverage hardly looks brown. Jason’s stomach does somersaults just from smelling it.

“Didn’t take you to have such a sweet tooth,” he notes. The drink is practically a syrup, his teeth rotting with his brief taste—but it’s worth the way Thalia grins.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Thalia replies. “I’d say fourteen years ago I didn’t even like coffee.”

“You call this coffee?” Jason asks—and he laughs with a light ease as Thalia nudges him in the arm. The morning dew is still fresh in his nostrils, with the scent of sea salt from Long Island Sound wafting towards them from a distance.

“I was trying to get an idea of how my baby brother was raised,” Thalia explains gently, after a short silence has passed. She fiddles with her denim jacket.

“What do you think?”

“It’s nice enough. Pretty views. Quieter than San Francisco,” she says. She shakes her head and gestures to the door behind them. “Kelp Brain’s cabin smells like the sea. You…not having a cabin to your own makes Dad’s porta-potty crypt at home feel like a mansion.”

Jason watches as Thalia’s expression shift with sympathy. He shrugs gently. “The Hermes Cabin was good to me. Most of the time.”

“Most of the time?”

“It’s a long story,” Jason replies. And he laughs tiredly. “Basically my entire life.”

He startles as Thalia places a hand on his shoulder, her eyes glittering with a warmth. “I have all the time in the world for you, Jason.”

Jason’s chest swells with warmth. The corners of his lips raise into a bashful smile and his cheeks dust a quiet pink. “This one might take more than a morning, Thal.”

Thalia perks, and she rests her cheek in her palm. “I like you calling me Thal.”

Again, Jason laughs. He slowly pushes her coffee back to her. “Hopefully the next time you’re here, there’ll be a cabin for the both of us. I’ve been told I’m a pretty good tour guide.”

“I expect a lot of black,” Thalia instructs. “And a karaoke station.”

“Done,” Jason promises—and she laughs with an infectious tone.

Thalia pads a hand over the length of her covered forearm, where her Roman tattoo marks her time the way Jason’s beads do for himself. “I’ve been thinking.”

She looks tentative—more doubtful than Jason’s ever seen in his rowdy, confident big sister.

“About what?” Jason asks.

“My time in the Legion is done,” she starts. “We’ll have a formal ceremony when we get back to New Rome since I’ve been a praetor. Frank was flattered about Nico’s offer—but I have a feeling he’s not going to want to do a long-distance relationship with Hazel.”

“Okay.”

“You’re retired now,” Thalia reminds him. “And I’ll be retired. Why don’t we find an apartment in New Rome?”

Jason blinks. He feels himself waking up with her words and stands taller. “You…mean move in together?”

Thalia’s lips lift into a smile and she nods. “Camp Halfblood’s... _okay._ It’s a good summer camp. But New Rome’s got a high school, if you’re into that. There’s a university. Kelp Brain actually starts there next semester. And there’s—”

“You,” Jason cuts in, his own voice faint to his ears. He snap out of his thoughts as he realizes what he just said and looks at his sister. Who smiles warmly at him.

“There’s me,” Thalia agrees. “And there’s grief counseling. Like, actual grief counseling. Nico suggested it after Bianca died. Well—after we thought she died. The first time.”

She makes a face, evidently still trying to wrap her mind around the fact.

Jason’s mouth lifts into a smile before he realizes it. “I didn’t realize Camp Jupiter had so much to offer.”

“Not Camp Jupiter,” Thalia corrects gently. She nudges him gently in the shoulder. “Just New Rome. And, you didn’t know New Rome had a lot to offer because we didn’t have enough time for each other before the war. We have that now. But if that’s not your speed, we could find a place in San Francisco, or Pasadena. Maybe the Midwest—?” 

“Thalia,” Jason interrupts. He’s smiling so hard that his cheeks dimple. “I’d love to.”

Thalia stares back at him, and he’s stricken by how similar they look for once as she grins back. “And we can make our way back here. Shadowtravel’s got some nice perks, but— ” 

“But it’s nothing next to waking up,” Jason completes for her, “and enjoying coffee first thing in the morning with my big sister.” 

Thalia’s grin widens. She leans into him—short, in comparison, but still admirable and worth the title New Rome’s given her. But now—she looks like she did the day they met again. Wistful and at peace. “You know, I’ve traveled the world now and the only thing I wondered was if my baby brother was safe.” 

Jason’s eyes mist, even a day after the war. He feels as excited as he did on Olympus—but another thought occurs to him. “You...think Dad will be okay if his cabin stays empty here?” 

“I think Dad was just happy to see us together,” Thalia protests. She shakes her head and squeezes his shoulder. “But it’s up to you. Whatever you want to do, Jason.” 

Jason’s immediate thought is what Camp Halfblood needs. Grief counseling. Help at the med bay. Funeral pyres and funeral rites. But—after that...there’s an _after_. And for the first time, Jason doesn’t fear it. 

“There are some things that need to be taken care of around here,” Jason says slowly. “But I think I’m ready to spend time with my big sister.” 

Jason’s surprised by how light the words feel. He doesn’t feel _bound,_ like he used to. 

Thalia grins at him. With a force he doesn’t expect, she yanks him into a hug. 

“You’re such a good kid, Jace,” she whispers in his ear. 

Jason’s eyes swell with tears once more. He hugs her back with a full embrace and takes in the rhythm of her heartbeat. Now that he’s found her, Jason never wants to let go. 

*

There’s a velvet box on the altar when Nico wakes up. Long and rectangular, with an ornate design at the clasp. He recognizes it immediately from his vision—the one that Nonna Laura had pushed to Hera without hesitation. 

Nico stares at it now, half asleep. He runs his fingers across the inset petals and unclasps the latch. Two rings sit at the bed of the box, one dressed with a gemstone carved like the lotus Nico has come to associate with Juno’s symbol of power. The other is a simple band, gold in design with feathers carved on the inside. The di Angelo Family Ring.

He lifts the larger one—the one he used to play with on his grandfather’s hand. There’s no way Nonna Laura would ever let the ring be melted down—but he has an idea how _serious_ his grandparents were in giving the Queen of the Gods a family heirloom.

A _commitment_ , he’d called it.

“A bit too big for my finger, Mammina,” he remarks to her statue. The statue stares at him, pointed—with a look that says _Mother Knows Best._ Mammina _does_ know best—after pushing the velvet box back to his grandmother and continuing to bind herself to an unwanted commitment.

Six months ago, Nico was simmering over a breakup and settled into the idea of dying alone.

Now—those nights under the stars, with the canals of Venice reflecting both the evening sky and serene happiness seemed…closer. In a sense.

When he stares too long at the rings, Nico snaps the box shut and puts them in his personal belongings. He runs his hand through his sleep-ridden mop of hair and is wary of the way Mammina’s eyes seem to follow him.

“I’ll give the other to Bianca,” Nico promises.

When he exits the cabin, he intends to make his way to the Roman campsite. Weeks of being on a boat, and then jumping from place-to-place with Jason and Coach Hedge made being able to bathe two days in a row feel like a luxury.

He cuts through the space between Hera’s Cabin and Zeus’s Cabin—and walks straight into Bianca and her girlfriend.

“Oh,” he says before he can help himself.

Both girls look at him, startled. In the morning sky, Nico has a better idea of what Calypso looks like. Her hair is the color of cinnamon, and she has pretty eyes. A flower crown decorates her head from the night before—but Bianca’s rests between her fingers. Her other hand is weakly tangled with the Titan daughter’s. It’s a serious conversation, from the looks of it.

Nico feels awkward just standing there. He takes a step back. “Sorry, I’ll—”

“No,” Bianca interjects. She makes her way to his side, one hand squeezing his forearm firmly. “Cal and I are done.”

Nico stares at his sister, who looks like she’s trying her best not to cry. Her cheeks are red, flustered, and she doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Irritation swells in his chest, and he raises his head to look at Calypso. Her expression is poised, no less than perfect—but even she looks like she looks like she’s trying not to look upset.

“Am I interrupting something important?” Nico asks.

“Not anymore,” Calypso says softly. She holds herself, looking out of place in her chiton compared to the campers decked out in orange and purple, but doesn’t stand down. Her eyes soften. “I’ll be at the edge of camp at sunset, Bianca. I hope to see you there.”

Nico frowns—but Bianca sniffles, and nods meekly.

With one last look over her shoulder, Calypso disappears into the forest. Nico looks back to his sister, who still doesn’t look him in the eye. For the first time, Bianca looks small in Nico’s arms instead of the big sister he was so often bickering with.

“I, uh,” Nico say softly, “bet there’s a place to get some hot cocoa around here. Does that sound good?”

Bianca sniffles again and nods gently. They make their way to some place called the Big House, and Nico fiddles with cabinets until he finds the powder. It’s not the best hot chocolate in the world—Camp Halfblood isn’t even a fraction of the society New Rome’s built—but the comfort of a warm mug of hot cocoa should be more than enough for his sister.

They sit on the porch, enjoying the early morning sounds of Long Island.

“Would you believe me if I told you Cal and Zoe are sisters?” Bianca muses, her voice already crestfallen.

Nico pauses, and he thinks back to Artemis’s Lieutenant. His blood boils in his veins, and irritation on Jason’s behalf is the first thing he feels. Now he finds a new irritation on his sister’s behalf, too. “Maybe. I didn’t actually have that formal introduction.”

“Mammina would have my head for that,” Bianca replies, and she rubs the sleep out of her eyes. Amongst the rest of the campers, she dresses differently—in a nice dress and sweater. It’s a far cry from her old green hat—and in a way, Nico thinks he understands that Bianca wasn’t long for Camp Halfblood.

Nico hesitates before pulling out the velvet box from before. “Is now a bad time to mention she left us a gift?”

Bianca stares curiously and then runs her fingers over the same inset pattern that her brother did. As she unclasps the box, she sighs. “The family ring.”

Nico explains the vision he had before they made it to Camp Halfblood yesterday. Bianca pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and sighs solemnly once again.

“Calypso doesn’t want a commitment right now,” she explains. Bianca fiddles with a set of beads around her neck—something Nico hadn’t quite noticed before. Or maybe she’d grabbed them in the absence of battle. “She was happy to see me, but she’s spent thousands of years just… _trapped_ on that island. Forced to fall in love and then have her heart broken when men left.”

She brushes her fingers over the last glass bead on her necklace—her last year as a camper in Camp Halfblood, and her expression softens.

“Mammina was trying to give me an out when I got sent to Ogygia,” Bianca explains. She’s sad as she offers more details—and Nico sees the same hardened look as their godly mother when she had to push the velvet box back to their grandmother. “A lot’s changed in the world in the last few millennia, let alone the past seventy years. Cal wants to fall in love because she _wants_ to. Not because of some weird circumstance.”

Nico frowns. “She didn’t want to fall in love with you?”

Bianca looks so defeated by the statement that Nico regrets saying it so bluntly—but then she shrugs. “She wants to travel the world.”

“Mammina let her off the island with the condition that they’d judge her by her merits,” Nico points out. The urge to protect his big sister grows—but this time Bianca simply shrugs.

“I don’t want to be with someone who isn’t committed to me and only me,” Bianca points out. “Mammina knows a thing or two about that. Just look at her and Papa.”

“I can’t _believe_ you call him Papa.”

“What would you call him?”

“A sperm donor at best,” Nico retorts, and he crosses his arms fitfully over his chest, still annoyed by Zeus’s words from last night. As he looks back to his sister, he’s met with a tearful giggle and a snort—and the tension eases. Still, that surge of concern doesn’t quite leave him. “You…didn’t want to go with her?”

To his surprise, Bianca looks astonished by the inquiry. She shakes her head. “No, Nico. I…I don’t want to leave you again. I meant what I said in Olympus.”

Nico stares at her, as taken aback by her statement as before.

There’s no hesitation in her voice. He’d asked once if Bianca still would’ve gone with the Huntresses if they _did_ stay together. If she’d leave anyway. She couldn’t answer him then—but she looks puzzled at the idea now. He comes first, for her. It’s…bizarre.

He feels the heat creep up his cheekbones, both flustered and grateful.

“I,” Nico says gently, his throat dry, “don’t want to come between you and love.”

Bianca smiles at him peculiarly—sadly, under her glassy eyes—but shakes her head.

“I’ve spent a lot of time trying to move on without a real destination,” she says. “I’m _more than_ happy to sit still for a change.”

Nico’s heart warms. He takes a long sip of his hot cocoa and watches as Bianca pushes the velvet box back to him.

“These rings are a set,” Bianca declares. “Hold onto them, Nico. I think they’re meant to stay together.”

At those words, Nico fiddles with an idea in his head. He puts the box away and stares back at his sister, who look a little calmer than before. “Would you want to move to New Rome with me?”

Bianca stares at him, surprised.

“I…get my own house as a praetor. Two bedrooms. New Rome has a high school. All of the other kids are demigods, so they know what our lives are like. Aside from the _pulled out of the 1940s_ part,” Nico continues, and he watches as Bianca stands taller in her seat, excited. “It’s…not as big as Nonno and Nonna’s estate, but we’d get to be together. We’d—”

“We’d be a family again,” Bianca finishes, and she brightens in a way that looks like their mortal mother. “Nico, I _love_ that.”

Nico blushes in the presence of his sister. He warns gently, “It’s not a big house. We have to share a bathroom.”

Her head is already in the clouds, and she rests her cheeks in her hands. “We’ll probably argue a lot.”

“I’m not a fan of a messy apartment.”

“Just keep your toy planes and action figures in a chest where they belong.”

“Your hair will clog the drain,” Nico tells her.

“ _Your_ hair will clog the drain,” Bianca refutes.

The edges of Nico’s lips etch into a smile akin to his sister’s. It’s a shy movement—but he reaches out and puts an arm around her. Bianca melts into his grasp and rests her head on his shoulder.

“I love our new home already,” she says.

*

Peaceful moments all around are interrupted as Coach Hedge starts running through camp, screaming. “She’s in labor! Chuck’s coming! _MAKE WAY, CUPCAKES! THE COW GOES OINK!”_

Bianca and Nico look at each other, puzzled—but sure enough, the old satyr has made it out of the forest with his pregnant wife slowly waddling behind him performing Lamaze breathing exercises.

_Lamaze_ , Nico thinks, puzzled. He has no idea how he knows that right away—but Coach Hedge is zigzagging with his trusty megaphone in hand and his metal bat in the other. Coach Hedge’s wife, Mellie, is practically transparent as Nico glances in her direction—but in the right lighting, her swollen belly is obvious.

“Honey,” Mellie says—her voice sickeningly sweet as she breathes in and out. “You’re stressing the baby out—”

“ _YOU’RE STRESSING THE BABY OUT, CUPCAKES!”_ Coach Hedge shouts into his megaphone. Mellie winces as the megaphone descends into a disgustingly high-pitched squeak—and for a peaceful spirit, she looks ready to strangle her husband.

“Coach Hedge,” Bianca interrupts—and she touches the frantic satyr’s shoulder. “Um—the infirmary is this way.”

“Oh,” Mellie whines, softly, her voice pained. “Another contraction—”

Her hand flies to her husband, voice ascending into a pained squeak, and Coach Hedge wobbles.

“My wife is stronger than Gaea!” he exclaims while she pinches his arm.

“You really shouldn’t be walking in your current condition,” Bianca says. She props an arm beneath Mellie, while Nico shrinks to her other side—

“I’ve got her,” says Jason out of nowhere. He pulls Mellie into his arms with little effort while she continues her breathing exercises. His hair is a mess, and he wears the same shirt from last night. Jason spares both Bianca and Nico the tiniest glance as he makes sure Mellie’s settled properly in his arms. Thalia and Percy aren’t too far behind.

“Ooh,” Mellie breathes, both of her hands on her swollen belly. “You’re a strong one.”

Nico stares at the son of Hades, confused for a second. “How’d you find us?”

“Grace! Make sure you’re lifting with your legs! _The pig goes quack!”_ Coach Hedge yells nervously through his megaphone, which echoes throughout camp.

As it screeches against his ear, Jason makes a face.

“Never mind,” Nico grumbles, and he rubs one of his own head. “We should hurry—her contractions are close.”

They all stare at him, and even Nico has to run the words through his head again. Bianca’s the only one that doesn’t question him. She floats behind Jason and gives him a gentle nudge towards the med bay. “Nico’s right! We need to get moving.”

As they make it to the infirmary, Nico starts moving on autopilot. He ushers Jason to place Mellie on a clear bed, closes the curtains behind them, and his hands start flying towards the shelves against the walls while Bianca coordinates behind him.

Nico doesn’t snap out of it until Jason interrupts.

“Uh, Nico,” Jason asks, his voice filled with confusion, “do…you know what you’re doing?”

Nico has four towels thrown over his shoulder. He freezes as he places a set of rubber gloves over his hands and examines their immediate proximity. Mellie’s rubbing her belly, still inhaling and exhaling through Lamaze techniques, while Coach Hedge sits at her side, ready to swing a bat at anything that comes near.

Percy, Thalia, and Jason watch onward, in a mixture of amusement and confusion. Nico’s pretty sure he missed Hazel and Frank’s looks of surprise as he ushered their group to the far back corner. Bianca is still trying to gather supplies, one-handed.

The curtains suddenly opens, and some blond kid appears, dressed in a set of scrubs over an orange Camp Halfblood shirt. He frowns.

“Why are there so many people in my infirmary right now?” he asks—then he directs his attention to both Nico and Bianca, appalled. “Messing with my medical supplies?”

“Messing?” Nico repeats—and his irritation grows as this boy’s scrutiny does.

“Will,” Jason intercepts. He places himself between Nico and whoever _Will_ is. “You remember Bianca, right? This is her brother, Nico. They helped bring Uncle Gleeson and Mellie into the infirmary.”

Oh. _That_ Will. Bianca waves her free hand sheepishly, but every word seems to go in one ear and out the other. Will’s eyes examine their full set up, looking even more irritated. 

“Good,” Will says. “I’m glad Mellie has so many people excited for the birth of her son—but there are too many people in this room. Unless you know how to birth a baby, _get out._ ”

Nico offers Will a hardened stare. “What makes you an expert?”

“Nico,” Jason suddenly says—and his hand flies to Nico’s shoulder, deciding he’ll have more luck with the other demigod. “Will’s the camp medic. Everything I learned was under him.” 

“I’m a son of Apollo,” Will elaborates—and he rolls his eyes, pushing past both Jason and Nico to start scanning Mellie’s vitals. “Listen—you’ve got your lightning and swordfighting, but that ends before you enter _my_ infirmary. What makes you think you’re an expert?”

Mellie keens again, and Coach Hedge holds her hand between his shaky, hairy fists.

“Her contractions are getting closer together,” Nico says, before Will can pull out a watch. “I’d guess she’s almost fully dilated.”

Will stares at him—equal parts impressed and confused.

“Nico di Angelo, son of Juno,” Nico introduces. “I’d shake your hand, but I need them to deliver.”

“Oh, I get it—” Percy interjects. He strokes his chin and looks at Thalia. “—Nico knows women like I know boats.”

At that explanation, Thalia breaks out into a good-natured laugh. Jason stares at Percy, confused—and Will looks apathetic.

Bianca stares at Percy with the same disbelief from last night, her hands furled around several water bottles. “Did you seriously just compare a woman’s body to a boat?”

“Queen of the Heavens,” Percy reminds her. He splays his fingers out like tick marks. “Goddess of Marriage, Family, Childbirth, and Women.”

Oh, _gods._ Was that why? Nico halts just like he did when Jason called him out and turns to his old centurion. “You’re telling me this is in my _blood_?”

“Actually your blood is Jupiter,” Jason reminds him, recovering from his own confusion much easier than Nico. “But you did declare yourself as Juno’s champion yesterday.”

Another noise leaves Nico’s throat—and again, Thalia takes it in stride. She grins. “Makes sense that we never got to test this out. Pregnant Legionnaires get parental leave. And Camp Jupiter wouldn’t be stupid enough to let a baby into the Legion.”

“And Nico does have like, eighty sisters,” Percy says. He nods agreeably in his own logic.

“Children,” Mellie breathes, her voice forcibly amicable and sweet, “I’m glad you’re making new discoveries, but does this have to happen while I am _giving birth_?”

She moans in pain again—another contraction—and both Will and Nico jump into action.

“If you’re not a child of Apollo or _Juno_ , apparently—” Will jabs a hand to the door. “—get out.”

*

Nico moves before he can think. He feels like every diagnostic screen that Leo has shown him, listing off major changes in Mellie’s body and watching her contractions before telling her to push. He has no doubt in Will, son of Apollo’s skills—but his reflexes are faster. He watches Mellie’s stomach, foresees when Baby Chuck is crowning, and corrects Will on an ill-timed order for Mellie to push.

And, two hours later, Nico is holding a baby satyr in his hands. Chuck erupts in an unabashed cry more raw and powerful than his dad’s broken megaphone, and Nico is stunned.

Despite his earlier irritation, Will looks relieved now as he inspects Mellie’s vitals and sings a soft hymn to help her healing. He stares at Nico, impressed, while Bianca helps wipe the sweat off Mellie’s brow.

“Congrats, _son of Juno_ ,” Will muses. “You delivered a baby.”

Nico delivered a _baby._

Coach Hedge sobs loudly, dropping the megaphone from his hand for the first time. “Well, kid? Is Baby Chuck a boy or a girl?”

“Chuck’s a goat,” Nico says numbly. “I just delivered a goat.”

Bianca squeals on Mellie’s behalf, offering the aurae a soft squeeze on the shoulder. “A baby satyr! I’m so happy for the two of you!”

Mellie smiles with fatigue, and Coach Hedge lets out another, billowing sniffle.

Will studies Nico carefully, the corner of his lip curling into a smile. “Your hands must be shaking after that, di Angelo. Need a secondary inspection?”

Nico stares at the son of Apollo, still unsure if he can move. He catches a glance of Jason peeking his head through the curtain. “We need clamps to cut the umbilical cord.”

Jason blinks at the scene around them—of the exhausted cloud spirit, of his emotional uncle, and Nico holding a baby without real thought other than— _cradle the head because the neck is fragile._ “The closest thing to a clamp would probably be the clips the Stoll Brothers use to bag chips—”

“That’ll do,” Bianca reassures, “Lickety split, please. _Clean_ ones.” 

At that urgency, Jason melts into the shadows and Nico feels a sense of disappointment somewhere in his exhaustion. When Jason reappears, Nico instructs the son of Hades where to clip off the cord while Chuck the Baby Satyr is nestled happily in his arms.

“Coach,” Will says, much more gently than his scolding earlier, “would you like to cut the cord?”

Coach Hedge truly looks like he’s been given the gift of life. He sniffles loudly again and wipes his nose on the cuff of his arm. “The birth of my kid and violence on the same day? Jeez—you guys know really know how to charm an old goat.”

Will hands him a pair of sterile scissors and Coach Hedge’s eyes glitter with emotion.

“My _new_ favorite thing and my longtime favorite thing all in one day,” he whispers. “The miracle of life is amazing!”

With one snip, Chuck is free for his father to hold, while Nico and Will help coax Mellie into delivering the placenta. When all is well, Bianca starts cleaning up around them and Nico hears Jason quietly inform Will about the state of the rest of the campers that have come through.

Will whistles appreciatively—in a far better mood than before. “You put 110% into everything you do, Grace. It’s going to be nice having you here again.”

There’s a quiet lull where Jason doesn’t respond right away. Then—“I’m…actually leaving Camp Halfblood, Will.”

Nico jerks his head back to the son of Hades, surprised—just as Will does. He’s met with Jason’s nervous smile—but there’s no regret there.

“Really?” Will asks for the both of them.

“Really,” Jason confirms—and his gaze flits to Nico. _I’ll tell you later_ , that look says—and Nico’s own chest tingles at the elation behind it. “Of course—I’ll get a schedule worked out. We can make appointments, and I can shadowtravel here when—”

“Dude—go out and see the world.” Will grins and taps Jason on the arm. “Trust me—if anyone deserves to do that around here, it’s _you._ ”

Jason stares at Will, evidently surprised at the swift agreement—but his shoulders fall in relief at the approval.

At that moment, a tiny baby coo takes the attention of everyone in the room. Chuck erupts into a soft, fitful cry in his father’s arms—and they all watch as Coach Hedge cradles his baby gently and coos back.

“We should sing a hymn to Mammina to bless this new life,” Bianca suggests. She smiles proudly and stares at Nico.

“I’m sorry,” Nico replies. “We, or me? You’re the singer in the family.”

Bianca flushes with embarrassment. “ _I’m_ not the one who delivered the baby.”

As Jason’s eyes fall to him, Nico feels himself glowing scarlet from his cheeks down to his neck. He fidgets in his place.

“Okay,” he says finally—and he gathers Chuck gently in his arms as the newborn satyr fusses. Slowly, the lyrics spill from his lips. “[ _Cast away your worries, my dear, for tomorrow comes a new day…”_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQVEVmHRygI)

Bianca perks with the lyrics, her lips spreading into a smile. She leans into her brother as Mellie rests, and Nico’s chest swells as he looks down to the small child in his arms. Slowly, his sister follows in the lullaby that their mother used to sing on the evenings before she had to go back to Olympus.

_Hold to me, you've nothing to fear_

_For your dreams are not far away_

_As you lay your head and you rest_

_May your dreams take over, my love_

_Listen close, my son of the west_

_For your destiny lies above_

_Though the world is cruel_

_There's a light that still shines_

_In the darkest days of our lives_

_When all hope seems lost_

_and you can't find your way_

_Think of me as you look to the sky_

_Child mine, your future is bright_

_For your father's blood's in your veins_

_In dark times, I pray you will fight_

_For the world will soon know your name_

Chuck glows with a pristine light, lit with the warmth of love from both his parents. He stares up at the di Angelo siblings with large doe eyes, his wriggling goat hooves falling into a silent lull. And slowly, Chuck’s eyes flutter shut, quelled into slumber.

A silence casts over the rest of Camp Halfblood’s infirmary, soothed by the lullaby from the Queen of the Gods.

*

As Will Solace expends energy taking care of the rest of his infirmary, Nico busies himself monitoring Mellie and alternating with Bianca. Baby Chuck appears to be fine—but Nico has a hard time getting over the shock of delivering a child. He settles, eventually, when it appears that the new family needs alone time together. 

Hazel and Leo have two infirmary beds to themselves, sequestered away after their brave victory over Gaea. Jason is first to tend to other wounded every time someone enters the building. There’s a hop to his step that Nico can’t quite describe. He makes a mental note to ask where exactly Jason intends on ending up later.

Bianca scampers in her best friend’s direction, while Nico settles on a stool near their sister.

“Hey, Hero of Olympus,” Nico greets, tone filled with a sense of pride. 

The corner of Hazel’s lips etches into a tiny smile, one eyebrow arched in amusement. “Hey, son of Juno.”

Nico’s cheeks glow from her knowing look. He pushes hair out of his face and inspects her carefully. Hazel looks like she’s in better shape than the day before, when she was caught in the blast of Gaea’s explosion. Her leg is in a boot rather than a cast. Without the hymns to Apollo or the ambrosia and nectar, Nico knows Hazel would be in a worse shape.

Neither Leo nor Hazel should’ve been _alive_ after Gaea. To storm _or_ fire.

He's nauseous just thinking about it. About whether or not he’d lose another sister in another war, without the chance of ever saying goodbye when they’re just now saying hello.

Maybe it shows too much as he squeezes Hazel’s hand. She smiles at him dearly, with the same sunset gold eyes that greeted him in their first meeting.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Hazel promises. “I heard you got your fair share of injuries while getting the statue here.”

Nico grimaces. His mind flies back to the lecture he received from Reyna, Thalia, _and_ Percy after that whole _cloud_ fiasco came into light. He was covered head-to-toe in unicorn draught and shoved into the nearest shower stall before their meeting could even get started.

“Who tattled?” he asked, feigning annoyance over his embarrassment. He lists all the people that would’ve visited his sister while he was busy delivering a child. Leo was here, but unconscious. Frank was a centurion, but not privy to that lecture. Percy was the obvious choice—

“Jason,” Hazel says instead. She makes a face, almost disbelieving. “He’s been keeping tabs on Leo and me since Will and he found us. I asked him how the quest went and he just…kept talking. That’s probably the most I’ve from heard him since we’ve met. For all of the praise he’s gotten, he’s always been tight-lipped about the first war.”

Nico looks back at his sister, unsure of how to decipher the way she’s staring at him.

“War is hard to talk about,” Nico replies gently. There’s a reason why Camp Jupiter focused on moving forward. For all of the ways war put their pack in shambles, they needed to rebuild. He thinks Jason said it best during their meeting in Olympus—peace was what people wanted over war. Moving forward and rebuilding what was left after the dust settled helped offer peace of mind to those who needed it.

Hazel looks weathered now. Nico knows half of her story on the Argo II, but will patiently await the rest of her adventures. She blows hair—trimmed by the flames of the onager—out her face and leans into her hospital bed. The force causes her crutches to rattle, but Nico is quick to readjust them against the wall.

“I don’t even know how to put the last few months into words,” she confesses, her voice showing only a fraction of her quest’s weariness.

“You’ll get there,” Nico promises. He scoots closer to her. “And if you don’t, there are people you can talk to. Camp Jupiter has people. I’m here, too.”

She lifts her gaze and takes him in. The edge of her lip lifts into a smile. “You’re always looking out for me, big brother.”

Nico flushes again and he squeezes her hand again. “I…don’t think you need me around to teach you how to fly anymore.”

“No,” Hazel agrees, “but you made being here seem…”

“Seem what?”

“Possible,” she says, then she readjusts on the bed. “I mean—if you told me what _technopop_ was a century ago, I wouldn’t have believed you. The modern world is weird. I would’ve been _lost_ without you, Nico. You welcomed me with open arms with like, _zero_ hesitation.”

Nico stares at her, his confusion rising with the pride in her voice. He clears his throat. “I remember that first meeting going a little differently.”

Poorly on his part, ready to kick Camp Jupiter’s intruders out of New Rome.

The other corner of Hazel’s lips lifts. “You said you weren’t the best person to teach me about Dad.”

“I’m not,” Nico agrees immediately—but Hazel takes it in stride. She laughs at the confidence of his words. For all the years that Nico’s known about Jupiter as his father, he never relished in the title. He loathed it. Nico doesn’t think he’s felt as far removed from their father as he did yesterday. Maybe Juno took it as one of the ways that he’s _honored_ her without knowing it, but—

“This role suits you,” she tells him gently. “Being a son of Juno, I mean.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Nico says. To which, Hazel raises an eyebrow.

“You’ve started plenty,” she says. She raises her fingers and recounts in tick marks, “Making the gods build Hades a cabin, making them acknowledge all of their children by the age of thirteen—”

“That was a group effort,” Nico protests.

“A family effort,” Hazel corrects. She waves at him overall, and Nico decides it’s not worth putting up a real argument. “You should really learn how to take a compliment, big brother. Jason’s got way more for you. Especially after Olympus.”

Nico stares at Hazel, unsure of what to say. He turns to look at Jason from afar and finds the son of Hades in a peaceful conversation with Bianca. There’s a smile over Jason’s face, easy in its weight without a heaviness over his shoulders. Jason has been amicable since day one—annoyingly so—but after Olympus, there’s something genuine about it.

His cheeks flush, as Jason’s soft gaze raises to him. Somehow, Jason’s candid smile seems to find more room to grow.

“I can’t imagine why,” Nico says. “That’s all stuff they should have given him last year. Percy probably would have demanded more.”

“Well,” Hazel protests, “neither one of you are Percy now, are you? I think Olympus is going to have a hard time taking the easy way out because of you.”

She shoots him another pointed look, and Nico decides best not to argue. Instead, he recounts yesterday in his head—the worry and the panic that came with watching Hazel descend from the sky and then being swept up by Olympus as she stirred.

“You’re the one who mentioned the minor gods,” Nico points out. He stares at her with approval once again, happy to change the subject. “You stood in front of Dad while he was praising you and the first thing you did was think about everyone else that helped in the war. Humbly, I might add.”

Hazel blushes at his words but doesn’t deny them. She shrugs. “Hecate’s the only reason why I’m alive right now. She turned me into a tree.”

“And despite what Dad thinks, Olympus isn’t just run by one god,” Nico reassures. He sits higher in his seat. “He...basically ran Olympus the same way Octavian tried to cease the Legion. Octavian expected everyone to fall in line with him with little merit.” 

She sighs and shakes her head with annoyance. Nico’s unsure of how well Hazel _knew_ their old augur—but clearly his annoying personality was infamous. 

“Octavian abused the title he gave himself,” Nico says. “Pontifex. A title like that is meant for a high priest in Rome—someone who does great things for their people.”

“I didn’t know cutting up a few teddy bears warranted greatness,” Hazel mutters—and Nico looks back with amusement.

“You’ve been talking to Thalia,” he notes.

“She speaks very highly of you too,” Hazel informs—and Nico’s smile only widens at her explanation. She fiddles with one of the straps on her boot. “I…really liked being able to stand up for the gods and goddesses like that. I woke up knowing that I was a daughter of Zeus, but that didn’t feel like _my_ only purpose. You know?”

“I do,” Nico reassures. Slowly, his gaze raises back to Jason. “You…don’t have to let Dad define who you are. Thalia and Percy always made sure to put _me_ first and that part second. If you can’t find pride in being his child, then you can find pride in being yourself, Sis. And I’ve already told you before—you’re the most powerful daughter of Zeus that’s come to be. But that’s all you.”

Hazel’s cheeks are a warm hue that matches the setting sun. She follows his gaze this time, one eyebrow arched in the air. “You’re full of advice, aren’t you?”

“That’s what happens when you grow up with strong personalities,” Nico tells her. He sighs and rubs his temples, but it’s fond. “Silence is just a word in the praetor’s office.”

This time, Hazel laughs. “Your Reyna is showing.”

Nico matches her laugh. There’s an effervescence hidden in the way she smiles—and an easiness, now that the war is over. There aren’t any secrets between them like before, and Nico thinks they’ve come out of it for the better. He looks back to her tentatively and finds only serenity in the way she holds herself.

“If…you’re worried about the minor gods being honored, I can’t imagine anyone better at making sure Olympus keeps their promise,” he says. “Someone who’s already had to work in a team of Greeks _and_ Romans would be a good ambassador for this kind of thing. _That’s_ something who’s worthy of the title of Pontifex Maximus. It’d be a good excuse to see each other.”

On cue, Frank arrives with a plate of cookies and a tall glass of ambrosia. Hazel smiles at Nico first—then presses a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek.

“First of all,” she replies to Nico, “I don’t need an excuse to see you. You’re my _brother._ Second—Frank and I are going to go to Canada for a little while.”

Frank suddenly looks nervous as Nico turns to face him—but Nico remembers why _Canada._ Still, despite the height he has over Nico— _and_ the width—Frank looks worried.

“So, uh,” Frank starts, “before the war happened, my grandma was still at the Zhang estate. She escaped when the house got attacked, but—”

“But now there are some family matters to attend to,” Nico finishes for him. He nods gently. “I get it. We’ll get the right paperwork filled out and you can take a leave of absence with the Legion.”

Frank looks relieved at Nico’s reaction, but there’s evidently more that’s missing. He grimaces gently. “I…don’t think I want to come back to the Legion, Nico. Sir.”

Nico stares at him.

“The Legion has helped me with a lot. They helped me grieve my mom’s death, and you and Percy really welcomed me with open arms,” Frank tells him quickly. “I thought that the Legion was my only option after the war—but now that we know there’s a whole new camp and all…”

“Say no more,” Nico reassures. “I don’t want you in the Legion if your heart’s not in it, Centurion Zhang. You’re welcome to choose however you want to live your life—godly presence or otherwise.”

This time Frank lets out a sigh of relief, and Hazel’s expression glitters with approval.

“I…think I want to help out more kids like me,” Frank says. “Kids who’ve lost their parents or a loved one in war. I know firsthand what that’s like. Having someone to talk to has really helped me get through it.”

“Funnily enough, I think Camp Halfblood is about to have a grief counsellor position open up.” Nico smiles at the son of Mars, who looks more and more comforted by his words. “New Rome can help out with set up, Frank. We’ll help fund it.”

“What about you, though?” Frank asks worriedly. “You were planning on stepping down as praetor as soon as the war was over. Do you have another successor in mind?”

Nico takes in his words carefully. Weeks ago, he would’ve gladly thrown the cape to someone else on the Argo crew. Praetor was a role that he never aimed for. The _Best_ and the _Greatest_ just felt like a lonely title growing up—something he didn’t need after losing his sister in the Lotus Casino.

But—the weeks leading up to the end of the war felt different. More and more, Nico fell into the role as he mediated between Zoe and Jason, and led not just the Fifth Cohort, but every other ally Legionnaire in Disney World. Then, getting carted off to discuss Octavian’s punishment and how to move forward for Camp Jupiter felt natural. He certainly didn’t do it for _Jupiter._ He didn’t make a huge speech on Olympus for his father, either.

Plus, he did already promise Bianca a room in his praetor house.

“I’ll stick with it for a while,” Nico confesses. “If worse comes to worst, I’ll make Percy my successor. He and Reyna would be able to handle praetorship better than he and Thalia.”

Frank stares at him, flummoxed.

“A problem with that, Centurion Zhang?” Nico asks, amused.

“No, not at all,” Frank replies. He’s not as timid as before. The confidence suits him—blessing of Mars or otherwise. “You were so against it when I asked you forever ago.”

“Because there’s no way I’m going to do it to honor an arrogant god whose ego is bigger than his lightning bolt,” Nico admonishes—and Hazel stifles a laugh while Frank squeaks. “But I’ll do it for family. Lupa has always said the _pack_ is greater than the wolf.”

At that declaration, the couple smiles at him. Nico falls off of his tirade feeling more at ease.

“Just so you know, I think being a _son of Juno_ bypasses me needing to get ordained to officiate a wedding,” he jokes. “That is, if you aren’t needing a flower boy.”

“Nico!” Hazel says, and she holds back another laugh as Frank glows a shade of red that matches the Ares Cabin flag.

Suddenly Bianca arrives, floating over from her spot at the other end of the medic bay. She smiles at Nico, then looks over to Hazel with hopeful eyes. “Do you need anything? More pillows? Is your bed too high? Do you have enough to eat? Are you cold? Too warm—?”

“Dude,” Percy says from out of nowhere. “You’re totally motherhenning.”

Bianca pauses. She glances in his direction, looking as puzzled as she did in the delivery room earlier today, then back to an amused Hazel. “What’s wrong with wanting to take care of my baby sister?”

Hazel blushes, much like earlier—but just like with Nico, she looks amused. “I’m fine, really.”

Percy continues on his musing anyway. “Your mom’s the _Mother Goddess_ , and a hen is a bird. Your dad—”

“Sperm donor,” Nico corrects offhandedly.

“—is the Lord of the Sky or whatever,” Percy says. “You’re the _epitome_ of a _mother hen._ ”

Bianca stares back at him, her expression indecipherable. “I’m starting to wonder if I should be concerned about Nico’s upbringing.”

“That would be the _Family_ goddess in you talking,” Percy supplies for her helpfully—and Nico waves his hand dismissively. Percy is an experience Bianca is going to need more than a day to figure out.

“I,” Jason says out of nowhere—and Nico startles at his sudden presence, “recall something about trying to beat up some chickens Legend of Zelda-style.”

Ugh. Nico wrinkles his nose while Percy’s confident smile drops. Bianca looks more confused with each growing second—and Leo laughs from the bed across from them.

“Aw man,” Leo says. “I gotta hear this one.”

“Long story short—don’t poke the bear. Or in this case, the flock of chickens. With a sword.” Percy rubs a bald spot on his head unknown to everyone but a traumatized ten-year-old Nico. “Anyway—I came to collect you, Neeks. The Senate’s been waiting for you while you birthed a child.”

They all stare at him. There’s an instance where Jason adorably hides a laugh behind a cough—followed by Leo’s own cackle of amusement.

“Now you’re doing it on purpose,” Bianca accuses.

Percy arches an eyebrow at her—and even Nico doesn’t know how much of it is just Percy being _Percy._

“Percy’s honest in everything that he does,” Hazel interjects for all of them. “Even when it’s to his own detriment. Like trying to ask a girl out.”

This time, Nico does snicker—while Percy turns even redder than Frank did.

“You—what—” Percy sputters—then huffs, with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, if there was ever any doubt _you_ two were related…”

Frank, of course, pats his distant relative sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Percy. I’ve been there.”

Hazel joins in Nico’s laughter with a pure joy. “ _Pffft—hahaha— **snort** —_”

They lean into each other, the weight of a war temporarily lifted with much needed relief after months of quests. Nico grins so wide his face hurts—the first in a long time, since Reyna went missing.

As he comes to a calm, he watches Hazel wipe a tear out her eye, lips splayed into a grin just as wide as his own. Percy looks scuffed at best, pouting despite his size, but it fades with little care.

“Well?” Percy gestures towards the entrance of the med bay. “Praetor di Angelo?”

Nico looks to both of his sisters with one last inspection to make sure they’re okay, and they meet him with matching smiles.

“We’re going to have some sister bonding time,” Bianca says.

“Have fun, fearless leader,” Hazel tells him.

Nico smiles. As he stands up to leave—

“Oh,” Jason says—and out of instinct, Nico turns around. Jason has a hand extended, clearly ready to stop the other demigod, but stops before they make contact. There’s a look on his face that doesn’t quite make it out of his mouth.

“What is it?” Nico asks.

“Uh,” Jason’s head falls to the side ever-so slightly, his smile sheepish. “Never mind. It can wait.”

Nico’s doubtful. His eyebrows furrow together. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you’re a busy guy,” Jason reassures. His eyes flit to Percy and Frank briefly—then back to an unconvinced Nico. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll meet up later.”

“You’re sure,” Nico tries again. HIs eyes scan the son of Hades up and down, wary—but nothing about Jason’s demeanor or posture suggests anything dire. Nico would even say Jason looks better than he has in weeks. Before Tartarus, even.

There’s something different about seeing Jason’s smile up close than from afar. His lips lift in a simple stroke, and he smiles so easily that Nico can’t help relishing in the glow of it—compared to the cordiality that came before. “Go make some hard decisions, fearless leader.”

Nico’s cheeks glow. He gives a stiff nod—and both Percy and Frank follow him out of Camp Halfblood’s med bay. All the while, he feels Percy staring at him curiously.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Percy replies—far too innocently. “Nothing at all, Neeks.”

*

There’s order to this senate meeting compared to the day before. Yesterday was all sorts of chaos invited by an uninvited war. Legionnaires were in a crossfire, wondering what side to follow—Gaea, Octavian, or the three praetors that left for a quest for the greater good.

In the end, there’s civil unrest that needs to be addressed from legionnaires that fell too easily to Octavian’s command—more that can be addressed in a day and a half on what would’ve been considered enemy grounds a week ago.

“Tardiness?” Octavian spats from his place in front of the makeshift court as Nico takes his seat beside Reyna and Thalia. They smile at him—one bemused and one fond, while Nico makes a face at the legacy in front of them. “Is this the type of behavior the Senate expects from its praetors?”

Nico stares at scraggly Octavian—who’s still dressed in his clothes from the day before, hair stiff like straw. He’s cuffed, but Nico’s surprised Thalia hadn’t insisted on gagging him with his own care bears, too.

“You really want to try that here?” Nico asks wryly. “Now?”

There’s a divide in the Senate. Frank and Percy stand as representatives from the Fifth Cohort, with Dakota as a representative as one of Bryce’s prisoners. Nico sees Leila from the Fourth Cohort, and a nervous Hank and Larry from the Second and Third. There are self-elected representatives from each branch—ones that changed sides in the middle of the war—but there are still far too many that fell in line with Octavian, even if it was out of fear. Including Mike Kahale, who was on the battlefield beside Octavian before Nico nearly lost his sister.

“I merely offer the Senate unbiased facts,” Octavian harrumphs.

Nico debates on gagging the Legacy of Apollo himself with a well-deserved Furby.

Octavian turns to face the rest of the centurions—the uneasy officers who will have to report back to the cohorts that were already swayed once. “You followed me for a reason! They say fear—but surely you won’t comply with them now because you’re scared, will you? New Rome was abandoned not by one—but _three_ of its praetors! One of which was elected out of nepo—”

“Octavian,” Thalia interjects. “Shut up.”

A snicker that echoes through tented walls, easing some of the tension.

Octavian gives her a withered stare with none of the shame. He stands in his shackles and rolls his eyes emphatically. “ _Your_ run as praetor should be over, Thalia Grace. You’ve served your ten years! Should you even be standing at the podium anymore?”

Out of instinct, Nico wants to sock Octavian for Thalia’s sake—but the daughter of Pluto stays put, her arms crossed amicably over her chest as she stares at Octavian with some unnerving diplomacy.

“Normally I’d agree with you,” she says. “But we’ll be making our way home when the sun sets today, and some of you are worried you’re not going to make it back to New Rome. We’re not leaving until we reach a verdict within the Senate. Praetor Ramirez-Arellano, di Angelo, and I have discussed some options that will pour over to the rest of the Legionnaires.”

There’s an audible gulp.

“We were at a standstill yesterday because we as a group could not agree on a punishment. Emotions were still high after the heat of battle. Some of us acted _recklessly_ during quests,” Reyna says—and her voice is pointed towards Nico and his hazy fingers. He wrinkles his nose. “In ancient times, mutiny in the army would be met with _decimatio._ But dividing our Legion into lots of ten and having you fight each other to the death—that’s no better than what happened yesterday. There’s no wonder why your cohorts would be scared in awaiting punishment.”

Octavian balks. “So you reject the ancient ways? How _dare_ you call yourselves Roman officers— _MMMMPHH_ —!”

This time, Thalia _does_ stifle him. She wads up a piece of paper and launches it into his mouth with accuracy a huntress would admire.

“You can’t have it both ways, asshole,” Thalia snaps at him, irritated.

Octavian’s eyes widen to the size of saucers and he waves his arms around stupidly, shouting something unintelligible.

“Don’t worry if you have a problem with my leadership,” she continues, smug. “I’m retiring soon.”

Reyna clears her throat—though she’s clearly hiding a smile behind her fist while Octavian tries to slobber through his new gag. “ _However_ , after our meeting with Olympus yesterday, we’ve come up with a decision that will move the Legion forward. Praetor Grace is stepping down permanently when we return to New Rome. Praetor di Angelo has held his title for a while now, but we plan to move forward and find new strength in the Legion in our renewed leadership.”

She pauses, her eyes falling to Nico as a senior officer. There’s pride in her eyes, and Nico’s own chest swells.

“For those of you who followed Octavian out of fear, or because you questioned leadership, we will move forward,” Nico says—and he can feel Thalia smiling proudly at him, too. “We’ll continue to judge on merits. No one will be _decimated_ because they felt they didn’t have a choice in the war. And if there are _true criticisms_ about how the Legion is run, then that Legionnaire can bring it up to the Senate.”

Octavian makes an egregious noise—probably something about going against Roman tradition—but the Graces are right. He can’t have a decision go _both ways_ , and a hard choice will always have to be made, even if it’s against tradition.

It’s the easiest one Nico’s made thus far, when he sees every Roman senator sigh in relief.

“No ruler is perfect. Not even in Olympus,” Nico adds. “That’s how there have been two wars back-to-back. We’re an army, but we’re also more than that. A pack. Understood?”

The rest of the Senate looks at each other, all with mixed looks of relief and disbelief. But—one-by-one, they all cheer on the decision, starting with Nico’s immediate family in the Fifth Cohort.

“Alright, Praetor Neeks!” Percy shouts—and both Frank and Dakota cheer. Nico holds back a satisfied smile.

“ _Mmmpphhh!_ ” Octavian shouts with aggravation. He spits out the wad of paper from his mouth.

“And _you_ , Augur Octavian,” Nico snaps. He turns to the Legacy of Apollo, whose face suddenly drops. “Let’s discuss what you’ve brought to the table as of late. Trying to overthrow our current government after formally losing by popular vote. Inviting actual _psychopaths_ back into the Legion after they’ve been exiled and throwing everyone who disagreed with you into the Labyrinth. Literally _two-fifths_ of our Legion! Of _all_ people here who deserve to be _stoned_ or _beaten to death_ , it’s _you._ ” 

For the first time, Octavian actually looks scared as Nico’s anger grows with his words.

Nico turns his head to Reyna. “You want to take this one?”

The edge of Reyna’s lips curl into a smile and she shakes her head. “I’m rather curious of what my co-praetor intends.”

As Nico turns back, Octavian jumps. He glowers at the legacy demigod, jaw locked into a scowl—and ceases.

“I just delivered a new life today, so I’m in a giving mood,” Nico decides. He watches as Octavian’s demeanor falls in shock, and the rest of the Senate stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “You’ll be sent to rehabilitation and monitored closely. You’ll no longer be a centurion. You will no longer be an augur. No one in your family will ever be able to _advance_ in the Legion ever again, and you will _never_ receive your ten stripes of service.”

“What—” Octavian sputters, his eyebrows furrowing. For once, he’s speechless. “I—I’m a legacy of Apollo! I perform auguries in his name! What exactly do you think is left for me here?!”

“Being a kid and go to rehab, dude,” Percy calls from the other end of the tent. “Be grateful Praetor Neeks added some years to your life.”

Octavian actually looks _upset_ at the prospect of _not_ being killed. Which may be a punishment in itself.

Reyna and Thalia don’t look particularly _happy_ with his decision—but Nico’s already seen enough dead bodies between last summer and now. He doesn’t intend on adding more.

“Now then,” Nico decides, as everyone else processes his words. “Are there any further questions?”

*

The day is strenuous of course—between Mellie’s surprise labor, ill campers, and an updated body count. Jason has to coax campers of all ages as they identify a deceased sibling. While he grows used to the tears, they’re always fresh to the person who suddenly no longer has a brother or sister. And no matter how old that camper is, they all look small when they realize what the war cost them.

When that becomes too much for Jason, too, he makes sure to take a break. Something he wouldn’t have allowed after the first war. Annabeth finds him hanging out near the New Rome campsite as the sun starts to stretch across the sky.

“Waiting for the Romans?” she asks—which makes Jason blink.

“How did—?”

“I’ve been waiting for Percy,” she admits. She takes a stump across from him, a clipboard splayed over her lap.

There are notes and scribbles Jason can see from where he’s sitting—with cabin numbers past twelve.

“Probably not the best idea to take on more responsibilities when there’s so much to do at camp already,” she confesses. But she looks happy to be doing something related to her life-long aspirations.

Jason laughs softly—a dull ache from the past. “I’ve been down that rabbit hole.”

They fall into a silence—a heavy cadence that didn’t quite disappear just because of Olympus.

“So—” Annabeth starts, as Jason says, “Um—”

They stare at each other.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Jason promises. “Not this time.”

Annabeth looks back to him, her eyes shimmering. Jason’s not sure who moves first, but suddenly they’re wrapped in a hug. He has the first person he ever considered a sister in an embrace—and they both exhale a sigh of relief. The tension from the first war isn’t there—no screaming, no tough choices. Just two people who love each other—with or without Luke Castellan.

“It’s been a rough year. Couple of years,” Annabeth corrects softly. She pulls away from him, clipboard in hand, and stares at their cabins. “Hard to believe we’re rebuilding again.”

“Good thing you’re an architect,” Jason tells her—and they sit down beside each other this time.

She grins at his words and props the clipboard on her knee. “This’ll be fun. Like brainstorming your powers, but—”

“But for something we both actually want,” Jason finishes for her. He matches her smile. “Peace.”

Annabeth studies him in a way that used to unnerve him—but he welcomes it now with her affection. “I like this from you.”

“Like what?”

“A genuine smile,” she says. “Been a while since I’ve seen one of those. “

At that comment, Jason can’t help but feel the heat in his cheeks. He’s bashful, his laughter quiet, but it’s filled with much less timidness as it was when he was little. “Guess I’ve got a lot less to worry about and more to look forward to these days.”

“All deserved,” Annabeth tells him. She hesitates, before adding, “Sorry that I wasn’t a big proponent for it last year. You’ve done a lot for camp, Jace.”

“There…were a lot of emotions up in the air last year,” Jason reminds her. His reflex is to touch the spot on the back of his neck, which had suffocated him in duty. It tingles whenever he thinks about Luke, or the first war. But—right now, Jason thinks he can move forward without his past hanging around his neck like a noose. He feels better with his other best friend beside him. “I could hardly get the words out even when I wanted to.”

The corner of Annabeth’s lips lifts. “What do the words say now?”

“That…I could go for a burger,” Jason admits—and Annabeth laughs at the earnestness in his tone. “I was hoping to catch Nico before the Romans left. Looks like he’s busy, though.”

“That’s what happens when you’re friends with one of the most well-known people at camp,” Annabeth muses. “You get stopped by everyone.”

“Don’t I know it.” Jason laughs softly again. His gaze falls back to her clipboard out of instinct. **CABIN 13** is underlined three times—and it’s the only one that doesn’t have any items related to it. There are cabins listed after thirteen—filled with notes and scribbles that are undoubtedly comments from his cabinmates from Cabin Eleven. But Cabin Thirteen is blank. It’s surreal to think that it’s coming to fruition—all because of their meeting yesterday.

Annabeth catches him staring. She smiles at him fully and nudges him again in the arm. “I can’t _wait_ to show you what I’ve got planned, Jace.”

“I’m sure I’ll love them all,” Jason reassures her.

“You’ll…tell me if you don’t, right?”

He’s taken aback by the question. Annabeth studies him with due care—with a look she’s given him in in the past few years since Bianca’s arrival and eventual death, but this is the first time she’s put words to it. That he’s sat close enough and _let_ her put words to it.

“Well,” Jason starts slowly, “I trust you as an architect. If…you have designs that you think will capture my dad well—”

“Jason,” she scolds.

“—I’ll tell you what the best way to honor him is,” he finishes sheepishly. “And if something bothers me. But seriously—I have faith in your designs.”

Annabeth’s lips curl with approval. She pulls a lock of blond hair behind her ear. “There’s still room for improvement in my designs. Things for me to learn. Places for me to _go_ , so I can learn.”

She stares at him, chewing on her bottom lip. Jason gets it immediately.

“Taking a break from Camp Halfblood?” he asks lightly.

“A short break. Couple of months. A…semester,” Annabeth says, and her smile is nervous. “Percy convinced me I should apply to New Rome University. Apparently, they have a good architecture program. I’d hope so, considering how beautiful New Rome is.”

Jason takes in her excitement—which he can tell she’s muting for his sake. “Have you heard back yet?”

“Not yet. But he thinks _saving the world from Mother Earth_ would make a killer essay for a full ride,” she jokes. She pauses, hesitant, and looks back to him, worried. “San Francisco’s not that far from my dad. I…I think after being missing for so long, I’d like to be close to family.”

“I get that,” Jason says—and then his smile widens. “Guess we’ll be seeing each other around New Rome then.”

Annabeth stares at him in surprise. Then, her lips split into a grin too big for her face. “Wait. Really—?”

The curtains to the Senate tent opens. People slowly start filtering out, wearing various badges that belong to the centurions. Jason and Annabeth stand to their feet in anticipation. Frank and Percy are last—but no Nico.

“Hey Beth,” Percy greets—clearly in just as easy of a mood as before. He catches Jason at his feet, one careful eyebrow in the air, and studies him. “Sorry, Grace. The praetors are still convening.”

Jason deflates.

*

Nightfall is close by the time Thalia, Reyna, and he are done discussing final departure plans. Nico is starving.

“The Mess Hall has enchanted plates,” Reyna tells them, hand intertwined with Thalia’s. They look far more intimate than during their meetings, leaning into each other with a comfort that was there before Gaea, but not quite said aloud. It’s as foreign to Nico as much as it feels fitting. “The ones from the ship, I mean. I wanted to get in touch with the camp director and see if we could get a supplier for New Rome. It’d cut down on food costs.”

“Provided they don’t get broken,” Nico says—and they both turn to Thalia, who’ll undoubtedly throw one of her screamo concerts the moment they get home.

Thalia shrugs nonchalantly, slinging her arm around her girlfriend. They look happy together—which is more than Nico could ask for. She points to the several gold bangles on her wrist. “It’s not like we’re _hurting_ for cash, guys.”

“Sure,” Reyna chides, “but I’d rather not treat my girlfriend like an ATM any time we need to fund something.”

Nico expects Thalia to shrug again and dismiss Reyna’s light scolding. Instead, Thalia splays into a cheeky grin, bringing Reyna much closer. “I like hearing you call me _girlfriend._ ”

Reyna sighs—but there’s no irritation there. They’ve come a long way from kissing down an elevator shaft in Tartarus and _thanking_ each other.

Suddenly a thought occurs to Nico. He makes a face. “You’re telling me the Greeks actually have a _camp director_?”

Two of his favorite people stare at him in amusement.

“Well, there’s Mr. D—Bacchus’s Greek form. He’s resigned to this camp for the next century as a punishment,” Reyna says. “And then there’s Chiron, the—”

“The centaur. Right.” Nico shakes his head in disbelief but recalls Jason’s upbringing. Being dismissed and passed over to satyrs by the God of Wine and being trained by Chiron when the centaur had the chance—long before being groomed by Luke. “We’ve been here two days now and I haven’t seen one adult.”

“I’m an adult,” Thalia supplies helpfully. “Technically, so are you.”

“We’re Roman,” Nico points out.

“Camp Halfblood is mostly adolescent-led,” Reyna explains. “So is our own camp.”

“We have years of tradition to look back upon,” Nico protests. “And one way or another, a legionnaire makes it out of the Legion with ten years as an adult—unless we were careless enough to let a two-year-old into a cohort.”

Thalia chortles in amusement as they exit the Senate tent. “Letting a two-year-old into the Legion certainly would’ve made it interesting in figuring out your abilities, Neeks.”

“ _Interesting_ is a word for it,” Nico grumbles under his breath. He turns pink as Reyna arches an eyebrow of amusement. There’s no doubt that Percy and Thalia filled her in on this morning’s events. He debates on telling her the real story or letting her live with their outlandish exaggeration.

“A son of Jupiter _and_ Juno,” Reyna comments. “I can’t imagine anyone better leading New Rome.”

Nico flushes, but it’s not like his exasperation the first time he donned the cape. “You’ve been saying that since I was eleven.”

“When have I ever been wrong in my words?” she asks.

“When you ambushed me with a kiss on our way back from Tartarus,” Thalia teases—to which Reyna’s cheeks burn.

“That was wrong?” Reyna asks, one eyebrow arched in the air.

“No,” Thalia admits. “I just like bringing it up.”

Reyna rolls her eyes and gives the daughter of Pluto a light nudge. With a pitch that matches Thalia for too eerily, she replies, “ _Um, thanks._ ”

When Thalia looks embarrassed, she looks like Jason. Now that they’re together, Nico can’t help but feel like he’s intruding. He looks around their immediate proximity, where the campers are sparse, and can’t help feeling disappointed.

“Jason’s had a busy day ahead of him,” Thalia informs him. “Between the med bay and planning funeral rites, I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

Nico looks back to the daughter of Pluto. Behind the chaos that was his adoptive big sister, she stares at him now with eyes that makes _him_ feel self-conscious. “I—wasn’t expecting him or anything.”

Thalia stares at him, one more eyebrow arched in the air. Nico’s known her far too long to accept there isn’t a hidden agenda behind it.

“He wanted to talk to me before we left tonight,” he explains. “I—we’re getting close to departure.”

“Ah,” Thalia says. And nothing more.

“Ah?” Nico repeats. “What do you know?”

She shrugs. “I’ll just let him tell you. He was pretty excited.”

Reyna looks between the two of them, evidently as oblivious as Nico feels. “You two’ve spent the last few weeks together. It only makes sense you’ll be aching for each other’s company.”

At that speculation, Nico can’t help but grow flustered. He fidgets and rubs the tattoo on his arm, beneath Thalia and Reyna’s scrutiny. “ _Ache_ is a strong word, Reyna.”

“You should’ve seen him when you went missing, Rey,” Thalia muses.

To that, Nico feels his cheeks burn with heat. Time away from his New Roman family has made them far too brazen. “ _You’re_ one to talk.”

But, at that mention, Reyna only laughs, charmed. She pulls him close into a hug, and Nico finds himself on the receiving end of a kiss on the cheek. “You’re sweet, Nico.”

“The sweetest,” Thalia agrees—and Nico pulls out of her orbit before his face can be marred with black lipstick.

“Please stop,” he begs miserably. His two older sisters concede, and he takes in the sight of the happy couple together. There’s nothing more important to him than being able to see his family at ease. He hopes to keep that in praetorship. But—he thinks he’s been a third wheel long enough. “You two can go on ahead.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Reyna asks.

“I’ll catch up,” Nico promises. They flash him one last look—concern that’s probably not going to die anytime soon—but leave him be.

“We’ll save you a seat,” Thalia says.

Which is how Nico wanders around camp. He checks the med bay first, but even Will Solace, Doctor Annoying, has retired for an early dinner. There’s a mix of orange and purple shirts around the campfire, with all at ease after their new declaration. Off in the distance, Leo is helping Hephaestus kids with repairs, waving around a fancy Valdez-patented crutch. Nico makes a mental note to thank Leo for shielding Hazel from Gaea.

Eventually, he finds Jason sitting at the dock, stationed by a set of canoes that have gone unused in the last few days. Camp Halfblood’s canoe lake shimmers with colors of orange and purple as Apollo’s sun departs the east to set in the west.

Nico exhales softly at the forest of trees off in the distance. Slowly, he pads across the length of the wooden dock and—accidentally startles the son of Hades. “Hey.”

Jason jumps at the sound of his voice, choking and wheezing on a cookie. _“Nico!_ Hey.”

“Careful there, soldier,” Nico jests—and he’s quick to hand the son of Hades the bottle of Gatorade sitting beside him. “I don’t know if _death by cookie_ is a good look for the savior of Olympus.”

Jason takes a large swig of his drink and chuckles in the same warm fashion as his sister. “You’re a bit light on your feet. I didn’t hear you coming.” 

Nico snorts. He takes a cookie as Jason pushes a container of Oreos in his direction. “You can mark it as one of my impressive skills, I guess.”

For some reason, Jason’s next laugh makes Nico’s chest swell. It’s a quiet thing as the son of Hades ducks his head. “Of all the things I find _impressive_ about you, Nico, that’s definitely on the lower end.”

Nico blushes. He fidgets with his tattoo again, but it’s with a different nervousness compared to Thalia and Reyna. “I…hear you’ve been talking about me. To Hazel, I mean.”

“Nothing you shouldn’t already know,” Jason says—and Nico can’t help but grow flustered once more. “You’ve been busy since yesterday. We’ve all been. I was filling her in on what happened while they were on their way to Greece.”

“By talking about me?”

Jason shrugs. “She’s pretty happy to have an older brother. An older sister, too.”

Nico’s heart warms at that. He tucks a knee beneath his chin and lets his other leg swing free at the edge of the dock. “I would’ve thought you’d be inside celebrating with everyone in the Mess Hall.”

“Ah,” Jason says—and his voice is sheepish. “I’m…not one for crowds as people think.”

Nico stares at him. “Go on.”

“Once I get started, I get burned out pretty quickly. Running around, doing errands and what not even during dinner for the kids,” Jason confesses. He leans back against the dock and rubs some sleep out of his eyes. “Today’s been…exhausting. I needed some time for myself.”

“Good,” Nico says. He splays his legs out beneath him and reaches for another cookie. “You need time for yourself, Jason.”

“A hard lesson learned,” Jason jokes. His smile softens, and Nico’s chest tingles. “Thank you for that.”

Nico’s reflex is to dodge Jason’s compliment. Instead, he goes for another cookie. “Thanks for… _patiently_ offering advice on being a good leader.”

“Nothing you didn’t already have, Nico.” Again, Jason is earnest. It’s a shade that looks good on him. He raises a hand slowly and brushes the back of his neck. “Sometimes when you’re a _bad_ enough leader, the things a _good_ leader needs just stick out to you.”

“There’s nothing _bad_ about you, Jason,” Nico retorts.

The rhythm of their conversation halts. He looks up, and he’s met with Jason’s gaze and dimpled smile. The little white scar on Jason’s mouth stretches with it. “Thanks.”

Nico stares. Maybe a little too long. He clears his throat once more. “Thalia says you had something to tell me?”

Jason stares curiously.

“And… _you_ said you had something you wanted to tell me? In the med bay?”

“Oh. Right,” Jason says. “Sorry. Feels a little weird that you’re going to be leaving tonight. Gotta say, I’ve…really enjoyed your company a lot. I’m going to miss you.”

Oh. Nico bites the inside of his cheek, if only to will away the red of his own face. He taps his fingers against the wooden planks, with the same words at the tip of his tongue. But instead, he says, “Are you going to be okay? With the nightmares and all, I mean.”

“Annabeth is going to be here for the rest of the spring. She and I are working on talking to each other,” Jason promises. He makes a face. “And I talked to Mr. D. He said he was waiting to see how long I’d crack.”

He knocks his hand against something beside him. For the first time, Nico notices a hard-covered book beside the son of Hades. A journal.

“Writing down my feelings is apparently supposed to be good for me,” he says. “Mr. D wants me to write down my words if I’m not going to use them. So I’m at least not bottling it up like I’m…prone to.”

Nico stares at the book in surprise. There’s a pencil wedged in the first page, evidently already being used. “You’re telling me an adult around here actually did something worthwhile for you.”

Jason gives him a funny look, and Nico waves it off.

“I’m glad you’ll have outlets,” Nico decides. “No one should live their life expecting to saving the world or _die_ , Jason.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees—and his laugh is warm and sheepish again. “But I’ll miss talking to you on the daily.”

Again, Nico fidgets in his seat. He chews on the inside of his cheek and feels his chest swell with warmth. “Me too.”

Somehow, Jason finds more room to smile. Against the canoes with his orange Camp Halfblood shirt, he looks nothing more like a kid enjoying his time at summer camp. Which—really, should have been the reality.

“So,” he starts—and the soft vibrato of his voice makes Nico jump. “Thalia asked if I wanted to move in with her.”

Nico stares at him. “Really?”

“She said that the best way to spend retirement was to move in with her _baby brother._ ” Jason laughs fondly at the nickname, when he was once reluctant to it. He looks back to Nico, and the flint of his eyes radiates with happiness. “So she wants to get an apartment together in New Rome. I’m guessing she wants to stick close to Reyna now that they’re dating. And you, of course.”

Red flourishes in Nico’s cheeks, but he processes the words, still too stunned. “You’re moving. To New Rome?”

“Yeah,” Jason says—and he _teems_ with excitement now. He grins, and he looks as every bit as overjoyed as he was at Olympus. “I’ll be there next week for her praetor ceremony. Then she wants to travel for a while. We’re going to go back to Pripyat and see if we can help those wandering souls somehow.”

“To the _nuclear plant_?”

“It’s not toxic anymore. They hold tours,” Jason promises. “We’ll be careful. I…hope you’re okay though. If I steal her away for a little while.”

Nico instinctively wants to chastise _both_ the Grace siblings for doing something so dangerous—but that Chernobyl accident is where Jason seemed more confident in himself as a son of Hades. In the beginning, Jason was as stunned as Nico was to find out Thalia had a long-lost brother—but in the end, Thalia and Jason fell into each other’s orbit again like they belonged there. So, Jason found solace in being a son of Hades _and_ a Grace.

“Reyna’s the one you’ll have to worry about,” Nico says finally. “I’ve had Thalia as my big sister for almost five years now. I think I can spare her for a few months.”

He looks back up and he’s met with the warmest smile _yet_ from Jason. So much so that Nico could never imagine that face ridden with fear or frustration.

Then—

_“Ooomfph_.”

—Jason hugs him again. Closer, than Olympus, to the point that Nico thinks he hears a bone pop. But Jason embraces fully, as though he’s trying to show sixteen years of emotion in one gesture.

“I,” Jason says softly, “really can’t thank you enough, Nico.”

Nico chokes on a breath. He hugs back slowly, feeling the heat burn in his cheeks. “I…didn’t take you for such a hugger.”

At that, Jason blushes. “Too much?”

Nico stares back at Jason, who sits studiously, body tall and shoulders lax. There’s a dip to his cheeks as he holds a smile. In a way, it reminds Nico of the _Ambassador of Pluto_ that he met months ago—but in many others, he looks more disarming than before. There’s a little more _Jason Grace, son of Hades_ , peeking through rather than a façade of formality from Ambassador Grace, Hero of Olympus. Nico likes how it looks on him. He’s handsome.

“No,” Nico says—though he’d be lying if he said his voice didn’t crack a little.

They sit a little longer, until the oranges and the purples fully disappear from the sky. Constellations reflect off the canoe lake, in little beams of lights as the evening is enveloped with darkness. There’s peace, listening to the hum of the waters and the faded chatter of the Mess Hall in the distance.

It reminds Nico of every night he’d sit with Thalia, Percy, and Reyna outside the Little Tiber, sharing Kool-Aids and talking about nothing.

But, at the same time, it’s…different. A good different.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Jason asks.

“What?” Nico asks. He thinks of every canal in Venice that he would skip beside in the evenings, when he was younger. When he’d see the ripples in the waters and watch it twinkle with stars, knowing that Bianca and his moms were following after him, hands intertwined and fully in love.

He thinks of the romantic alleyways that stopped him, and when for the first time, he said, _I want that._

“Lake Hylia,” Jason says. “You know, where—”

“Where the Zora are in every Zelda game,” Nico finishes for him. He arches an eyebrow, amused, and tucks both legs beneath him. “You know, they have better remakes now. More than that dusty game console I saw at the Big House.”

“Really?” Jason genuinely sounds surprised.

“Even _I_ think a Nintendo 64 is old, Jason.” Nico breaks into a laugh—just a soft, amused snicker. “I’ll be happy to show you my game collection when you move.”

“Looks like I still need you then.”

Nico’s smile fades with the intensity of the words. He peers back up and is met with Jason’s contentment. Jason’s dark eyes hold the stars, and Nico thinks of every night beneath New Rome where he relished in the fact they hadn’t changed from when he was little.

“Looks like you do,” Nico agrees. 

They sit in an everlasting silence, enjoying each other’s company for the last remaining hours.

Eventually, Nico’s stomach interrupts their peace with an obnoxious growl. Jason laughs with unbridled joy—suiting for someone like him—and stands to his feet.

He extends a hand to Nico one last time. “Want to get a burger?”

*

At the very end of the evening, when the Greeks and Romans are able to reconcile and work toward a brighter future, Reyna and Annabeth make a speech about uniting their two homes. Nico stays out of it for the most part. The Roman campsites are packed up and ready to go. Thalia’s given a list of all of the Romans that fell in battle during the war, so they can work on giving those fallen Legionnaires proper Roman funerals.

He sees Jason fall beside Bianca, away from Camp Halfblood’s two leaders, who recount the heroism shown by their comrades. It’s an inescapable commonality, he thinks. For how much the Greeks and Romans feuded in the past, both groups valued their family. And Jason looks _comfortable_ —out of the limelight without one sword to be seen. Bianca flashes Nico a smile from afar—and in a week’s time, she’ll be moving in with him.

For the first time in years, Bianca and he would be moving in the same direction. He’s excited about it as much as he’s terrified.

And…Jason’s just a different story entirely.

Percy claps Nico on the shoulder. “So don’t be mad, okay?”

“I’m not,” Nico dismisses—and he rolls his eyes. “You should really stop opening with that.”

Still, Percy looks nervous—which isn’t a look that Nico often associates with the son of Neptune. “Once the school year’s over, I think I’m going to spend the summer break here. And start spending spring break here, too. Not because of, you know, a girl, but—”

“Because it’s like an hour away from your mom,” Nico finishes for him. His lips etch into a smile and he nudges Percy gently. “You already go back every break. That doesn’t change much.”

A sigh of relief spills from Percy’s lips—and this time, he does look more excited. “It’s gonna be nice though. Now I know I can stick around my mom’s apartment without the threat of an empousa or a gryphon or something, you know? Plus—it’s summer camp—”

“And Beth’s here,” Nico supplies.

“—and Beth’s here—” Percy rambles. He pauses, as he realizes Nico’s addition, and glows red. “Shut up.”

“As you politely put it, who am I, the son of the _Goddess of Families_ , to separate a mother and her son?”

Percy grins at him—the same, easy smile that Nico’s grown used to leaning on through all the hardships of war. He slings an arm around Nico with much more force than needed—but Nico thinks he’s due for one of those after the last few months. “Totally makes sense you’re the Mom Friend, Neeks.”

“I’m not.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Percy jests with a laugh. It’s loud enough that the rest of their assembly turns to face them—Jason included. Percy waves his hand dismissively, a smile to his face. “Gonna be weird going back, since you’re technically my boss now.”

“Not really,” Nico dismisses. “I’ve learned about leadership from the best.”

Percy’s smile is warm, his sea green eyes flickering with amusement as he holds onto Nico tightly.

“Reyna,” they both say at the same time.

Their senior praetor cocks her head towards them—and both son of Juno and Neptune stifle laughs.

The rest of Annabeth and Reyna’s speech finishes, and Camp Halfblood erupts in hundreds of goodbyes. Nico sees Hazel wiping a tear from her eye. She leans into Bianca, having clearly settled into her role as their youngest sister. Piper and Leo are there, having renewed their kinship after their separation.

Percy goes to fall in line with Frank and Dakota, to march the Fifth Cohort off the premises.

Thalia hangs back to give Jason one last hug, while Reyna walks to Nico towards the front of their army.

“I hear we’re spending the summer together,” she says. “Just the two of us.”

After months of separation, Nico doesn’t think he could imagine anything better. He leans into her fondly, the corners of his lips rising. “Maybe we can finally get through that mountain of paperwork in the office.”

Reyna grins. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As the Legion turns to make their final departure, the shadows swirl at Reyna’s feet. She shrieks as Thalia leaps from her silhouette—and surprises her with a kiss. Thalia laughs—boisterous and sweet as she swings an arm around her girlfriend.

“Retirement is fun,” she says.

“I’ve stabbed people for doing less, Thalia Grace,” Reyna grumbles—but despite the ire in her voice, there’s nothing but affection.

“You get used to it after a while,” Nico reassures.

As they make it to the edge of Camp, he turns one last time to take in Camp Halfblood. The Athena Parthenos pops out from the corner of his eye. His eyesight isn’t the best in the darkness—but even in the evening shadows, a demigod sticks out. One who spent too much of his life hiding _from_ them.

Jason lifts a hand and waves goodbye. Even from this distance, Nico’s heart skips a beat—because he knows Jason is smiling from afar.

“I can’t believe you like him,” Percy mutters—evidently following Nico’s line of sight.

“Shut up, Percy,” Nico replies. But—

“You’re not saying no,” his big brother protests, because he’s really not.

“Fall back in line, Centurion Jackson,” Nico orders—and he shoves a laughing Percy back towards the Fifth Cohort.

He turns back to face Jason from afar—and finds the son of Hades joined by other people. Annabeth, Hazel, Bianca—and Leo and Piper. Nico waves one final goodbye. He turns when he feels Thalia’s hand on his shoulder—as welcoming as she was on that day in the Lotus Casino.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Ready,” he says.

Thalia smiles warmly at him. She throws her arms around him in one more hug, her embrace still as protective as when he was little.

For the second time, Nico takes Thalia’s hand and follows her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading guys! This story has been such a wild ride, and I can't believe 2020 inspired so much jasico content for me! Hopefully this helps 2021 start out strong. If you didn't catch the link when Nico and Bianca is singing, it is [Inuyasha's Lullaby by Lizz Robinett,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQVEVmHRygI) also found by ariihen! The lyrics felt very fitting as something that Hera would sing to both her kids at night! 
> 
> Hopefully this ending gave you insight on what to expect from the sequel. I can't give a time frame on when the first chapter will be out, but please be on the look out for To My Beloved. Until then, please enjoy the timeskip of Over the Rainbow, where canon is thrown into the mix!
> 
> Thank you so much again for reading this story; it feels so surreal to say I have so much completed for Jasico! Please leave a comment if you can and tell me what your favorite part was, I love hearing from you all!


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